


Of Blood and Bleach

by JulianObviouslyLovesToad



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, Analingus, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Coming Out, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, Gay Alien Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Series, PrUt-Purse Sex, Shower Sex, Slow Build, Speculative Anatomy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianObviouslyLovesToad/pseuds/JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kelas has always had peculiar taste - that's the way one would put it in polite company. But on Cardassia, beyond the dalliances of youth, homosexuality was forbidden. Kelas isn't holding out hope that post-occupation Cardassia will be any different in that regard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Parmak’s hands were careful, his movements efficient as he drug Garak in out of the muck. He maintained a professional distance as Garak pawed at him weakly, asking how the children are. He had to bite his own tongue not to draw the man into an embrace in the middle of the muddy remnants of the yard. He knew that wouldn’t be a good idea, even in this virtually lawless new Cardassia. Even in this barren wasteland, there are some boundaries that one does not cross.

His eyes did not linger as he changed the other’s clothing, nor did his touch. He took in every detail as quickly as he could, under the lens of professionalism, quickly covering every soft, exposed, mostly clean scale not more than forty-five seconds after it was uncovered. He merely meant to remove the mud that had seeped through Garak’s clothes and nothing more. It’s what he told himself.

He believed it as he hoisted Garak onto the other man’s makeshift bed, as he pushed Garak’s wet hair out of his eyes. He believed it as he took the end of his sleeve to the last remaining dots of mud on the barely-conscious man’s face. Garak made a quiet noise of protest and turned his head away, mumbling something.

“I didn’t catch that,” Parmak said, adjusting himself and rounding the bed rather than the easier option which would be tilting Garak’s face back toward him.

“I don’t deserve this,” Garak repeated, bringing a hand up to swat at Parmak’s mothering hands.

“None of us do,” Parmak reassured, swiping his sleeve over every crease and scale pattern on Garak’s forehead. He took special care with his chufa, where water had gathered as Garak relented to being stationary. Garak’s brow creased when he processed the information.

“That’s not what I meant,” Garak complained.

“Just rest,” Parmak instructed, allowing himself an affectionate gesture; running his fingers once through Garak’s hair.

“But the-” Garak started as he tried to sit up. Parmak’s hands on his collar silenced him. He let himself be pushed back down, his eyes drifting closed as the other told him to;

“Just. Rest,” and it may have been the most firm he’d ever been with Garak. But Parmak found himself needing to clear his head. An ugly, old feeling had been present in his mind since the moment he saw Garak again, and it flared up like a painful case of scale rot when he caught glimpses of soft scale upon cleaning the older man.

Outside, Parmak took a deep breath. The rain had his clothes and hair sticking to him, and the breath felt heavy in his lungs, yet he felt freer in the drizzle than in the relative dryness of Garak’s temporary home. He put a hand to his chest in an attempt to ground himself, and quickly pulled it away when it was met with drying but still damp mud. It was an effective gesture, bringing Parmak back to the grossness of the moment as he wiped his hand off on the last patch of cleanliness on his shirt. He hurried home, knowing he still had things to do before he could so much as consider meditating.

Closing the door to his own crumbling lodgings, what remained of a one level apartment complex near enough to his residence of a decade prior, Parmak heaved a heavy sigh. He pushed his hair from his face, scratching his fingers through it until it laid flat with the assistance of the moisture it had absorbed. He wanted to make some tea and call it a night, but he wiped off his hands and sifted through one of his cabinets he’d set aside just for medical supplies, looking for a different muscle relaxant for Garak. He tipped one of the pills into his hand and made to put it in his pocket but, upon realizing his tunic and pants were soaked through and the pill would dissolve before he made it back to the other’s shed, he sat it on the counter instead. He found his cleanest set of clothing and put the pill in the shirt’s breast pocket, then folded them and shoved them in the bag that stored his tricorder and normally held his dermal regenerator. Said device was charging on a jerry-rigged rack, hooked up to a small portable generator he’d been allotted in exchange for his medical expertise in the recovery effort. He measured out a spoon of tea into a plastic pill bag and put that in his bag, too. He cradled the bag to his stomach under his tunic to protect it as much as he could, and closed the door behind him on the way out.

“Elim,” Parmak called out as he came through the open door, leaving it that way because it was what Garak preferred. He’d have figured that someone with Garak’s past would have preferred the safety and secrecy of a closed-off area, but Garak was a mystery wrapped in contradictions and sprinkled with madness and misery.

“Mm,” Garak hummed from his position on the bed. He turned his head a little and opened his eyes to watch Parmak as he moved around, taking his clothes out to change. He set the tea and turned to look at Garak. When he found those blue eyes staring at him, barely conscious though the other was, he had to look away.

“You, ah,” Parmak started, gesturing to his wet clothes as he took the cleaner ones from his bag. Garak hummed and turned away so Parmak could change. “You felt feverish earlier,” he tried again. “I thought I would stay and monitor it for a bit. I’ve put tea on. Just relax until it’s done.” Garak’s answering hum was airy and distant.

Parmak took the tricorder from his bag and gave Garak the onceover with the device. His readings were exactly as he’d suspected; a bit of a fever, an elevated white blood cell count, a little difficulty breathing. Nothing some rest and the right antibiotic wouldn’t fix.

Garak looked like he expected to be pushed back down when he managed to sit up, but Parmak allowed it, pouring tea into two cups that didn’t match and were chipped and dented. He took the chipped cup for himself and handed the metal mug over to Garak, who murmured his thanks. Those blue eyes that Parmak had feared, and had come to appreciate out of the corner of his eye, looked distant for a moment. Not distant in the way of someone who was barely conscious, but in the way of someone lost in memory. Parmak silently observed until Garak’s gaze was turned on him, at which point he averted his eyes and mumbled something about the tea.

After calming himself, Parmak took a damp cloth to Garak’s forehead, dabbing it against his chufa. The older man swiped weakly at Parmak with his free hand, grumbling about how he was already cold. The doctor couldn’t help but smile, just the slightest bit, when he told Garak that he needed to get his fever down. Garak only gave a mildly irritated huff. Parmak ran the tricorder over Garak again, then took the pill from his breast pocket.

When Parmak offered it to Garak, the other turned it down with a wave of his hand and a, “I’m afraid they don’t react well with me.” Parmak nodded and put the pill back in his breast pocket.

“I understand,” he said.

Garak looked like he wanted to say something, searching Parmak’s face and his averted eyes, but apparently he decided against it and took a sip of his tea. He could almost feel the older man’s stare lingering on his facial ridges. After several moments of silence – companionable for Garak, filled with concern and worry for Parmak – the doctor took the tricorder to Garak one last time. Satisfied with his results, he packed his tricorder away and washed his cup with a few drops of water, taking the pill from his breast pocket with the super-diluted tea.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a few hours,” Parmak offered as he changed back into his filthy clothes, keeping Garak in his periphery, even though the other had pointedly looked away the moment Parmak’s hands went for the bottom of his shirt.

“You don’t have to do that,” Garak muttered as Parmak was struggling into his still-damp pants. “But, if you absolutely must, I suppose I’d appreciate the company,” he relented. Once he was fully dressed, he gave a little smile. Garak turned to return the smile, catching the doctor’s gaze for just a moment. Parmak gave a little shiver when he broke eye-contact, and his smile dropped from his face as he bowed his head submissively. He gathered up his bag and tucked it under his shirt once more.

“Until next time,” Parmak said with a nod, not even looking at the other.

The rain had slowed on the way home, but Parmak still had to peel off his clothes before he could slip into bed. He let himself shake with the chill that had worked its way down to his bones, trying to encourage the pain over the blossoming desire and heat rising in his core. He fisted a hand in the sheets and turned his head into the pillow, trying not to think about Garak and the topography of his ridges he catalogued as he cleaned the older man.

Often, when he was struggling to resist his body’s needs, Parmak wondered if the younger generations knew how older bodies wanted the same ways theirs did. He wondered if those with the young, hard bodies knew how his old body, which was starting to sag and wrinkle in spots like his temples, craved just like theirs. Well, not exactly like theirs. His desires were forbidden beyond youthful dalliances.

He’d hoped the pill would ease the ache between his legs that Garak evoked in him, but it hadn’t taken effect yet. His want was so intense that he couldn't even attempt to meditate. Parmak crossed his ankles and fisted his hands in the sheets, teasing his hidden prUt by clenching and relaxing the muscles in his thighs and groin. He continued to flex and release until he couldn’t resist everting. When he did, a wave of dizziness overcame him and he gasped. Relieved that the pill was kicking in, he turned over and started lazily rutting against the bed, confident that he would lose consciousness before he achieved orgasm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter is all smut and angst.

Parmak delighted in finding survivors. Though they were few and far between, and becoming increasingly rare, they brighten his entire week. He spends a majority of his evenings with Garak, watching the other make his monuments to the dead. Parmak wanders through them, happy to be haunted by Garak’s ghosts rather than his own. Those find him in his sleep.

During the day, his mind is organized. It has to be, he’s a doctor; his head is filled with layer upon layer of figures and fixes, information stacked precariously on top of other more vital information. One wrong move and the treatment for the Cardassian common cold can cause cardiac arrest. But none of that matters when his subconscious takes over.

Past lovers haunt him, recall him to earlier days. Arguably more stressful days, not that Parmak would ever claim to have been relieved by any of the recent destruction – of course not – but if he had time for his past to pursue him, he clearly had less to worry about in the moment. He was comfortable enough, needed enough, that he didn’t have to fear for his life anymore.

He often remembered his first lover who wasn’t stolen touches in secondary school lavatories or sly rubbing under the blankets during a sleepover. His name was Nicez Teror, and he came from a long line of doctors and nurses. His scales were a gorgeous copper and they shimmered with his every movement. He kept his hair long and combed it neatly back so it looked much like the traditional style from the front, but the shock of curls under a piece of twine were eye-catching and alluring. He had a grace about him that didn’t diminish his masculinity, but rather made him more approachable, seem more interested in everything one had to say, made him appear capable of anything. He seemed to know where he was going in his first year at Bakorrin, and Parmak had found himself hooked.

They waste away their evenings, chatting on one of their small but comfortable beds, leaning as close as decency permitted. Teror’s deep, rich laughter tickled Parmak’s aural ridges, making him shake with desire like the school were victim to seismic activity, bowled over as if by a hurricane.

“Shall we resist our temptation?” was the offer that began their affair, a lock of Parmak’s hair curled around a dark, shimmering finger. Parmak had given in without hesitation or question, much to Teror’s apparent delight. They shared soft and lingering kisses that night, staying upright and mostly separated until they heard the clack of expensive heels that signaled the return of Parmak’s roommate. Teror pulled back with his ever-present grace, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip and glanced at Parmak with a glint of devious passion in his eyes before smiling, nodding politely and showing himself out.

Doctors became accustomed to luxury early. Students were only two to a room at Bakorrin, unlike the cramped military and engineering academies where young men and women were taught to get used to crowded conditions, but that didn’t make keeping their avocation under wraps any easier.

Teror’s hands were clever, knew all the spots that would bring Parmak to his knees, would have him falling back on the mattress. Glistening ruddy fingers trailed over every ridge and dip, and Parmak had to bite his own to keep quiet. Teror would simply give that charming smile and name every body part and muscle group he kissed and licked and sucked.

Teror was the first to show Parmak the pleasure of having his purse opened. At first it was just a finger, one working its way under Parmak’s prUt when they’d been frotting. Teror had hushed a whimpering Parmak with a tender kiss when he started to shift about uneasily. He explained in that soothing voice the sensitive nerve endings in the purse, against Parmak’s lips, while working his finger into the dripping slit. Parmak panted for air, unable to find it in the face of such strange pleasure. He’d cleaned himself there, sure, and felt the slight tingling sensation a soaped finger left behind, but he’d always figured that the body’s natural and pleased response to something that needed to be done. He gripped and stroked Teror’s well-developed neck ridges as the finger probed deeper, working Parmak up in ways that he’d never experienced. When Teror’s finger found the erectile tissues behind his prUt and along the ceiling of his purse, knuckles spreading his slit as they pushed up against it, Parmak moaned out loud. Teror hummed a pleased note and continued to stroke the area, turning and lifting his body to line up their erections again.

One hand sliding into Teror’s loose, mussed hair, the nails of the other catching on the thick scales at the back of a ruddy neck, Parmak wondered what the other was doing to him. He knew it was nerves that were seldom touched being tenderly stroked, muscles clenching and hormones being released, but he couldn’t even cry out in warning of his orgasm.

“Oh, sweet thing,” Teror had whispered, his voice trembling just the slightest bit at the feeling of Parmak’s purse clenching around his finger, watching Parmak’s little prUt jump as it pulsed with his seed, dribbling into his chuva. He eased his finger out and planted his hands on either side of Parmak’s torso. “Oh, sweet thing,” he repeated as he rubbed his prick over the sensitive, semen-smeared scaling of Parmak’s chuva.

The words still made him shake.

Teror was the first to open Parmak’s purse with a prUt. He had the smaller man shaking and crying through many, many orgasms. Parmak had started to figure Teror something of a hedonist with all of the soft, sensual fabrics he kept lying around, draped over every surface which he promptly had Parmak over.

The two would sneak out to share spinefruit under the blind moon and steal kisses in a semi-public area, to pretend their relationship could be something more than sex. They would read each other poetry about resisting one’s desires before giving in to theirs. Parmak wrote sonnets for Teror in his passion, but the words wouldn’t form on his tongue when Teror used his.

Parmak sometimes woke up shivering from his memories of Garak, and he’d be achingly hard and terrified of days long past. Days where he’d had to be so intently focused on his work that he could dismiss even the thought of having a family, so he could sweep his feelings under the rug during casual conversation. Apparently he’d been too intently focused on Tain and it aroused suspicion. But focusing on the older man had been far less arousing than paying attention to the attractive ‘sons’ the man kept around.

Of course he’d been sympathetic to the Bajorans, but he had sympathy for any living creature. Even the ones he ate and gave thanks for. It felt like Garak could see right through him, could see the way that smile of his went straight to his groin and made him ache. As the tension in the room rose, Garak’s knowing smile stretching, his eyes trailing down Parmak’s body as if it were a caress – as if he could see the arousal coursing through his very veins – Parmak decided to admit to a crime far less abhorrent than his desire to drop to his knees in front of his handsome interrogator. In time, his sentimentality would be forgiven.

Those nights, when he woke up with moist, rough sheets, rutting against them like they were the scales of a partner’s lower back, Kelas would climb out of his bed and try to meditate using every tip and trick he’d learned from Reya Lantus. How he’d dissociated the meditation techniques from their lovemaking, Parmak would never know.

Reya haunted Parmak in his sleep, too. Between bouts of vigorous lovemaking, Reya would blame Parmak for the occupation, for what happened to his sister. The real Reya, the blonde, cherubic, open-minded and eager, lithe little thing would never have said those cruel words. Yet, his guilt took the form of that young man.

Parmak, too, had been in exile. He’d been sent to ‘play doctor,’ the words of the Gul who delivered his sentence, at a Bajoran labor camp, patching up the workers to get them back on the line. Bajorans hissed and spat at him when he’d first tried to treat them, and the Cardassian overseers had laughed long and hearty. Over the following years, the Bajorans who survived the harsh conditions had come to develop a distant sort of respect for Parmak, especially after it was discovered that he was being punished for his sympathy for them. That, however, didn’t make anyone friendlier toward him.

A few years in to his exile, there was an incident that drew the attention of a young man Parmak would later come to know intimately.

A man had come to select pleasure women and had set his sights on one of the workers laid up in Parmak’s makeshift infirmary. He pulled the woman up by her arm and, finding no visible injuries or imperfections, he started to pull her away with him. Parmak blocked his path.

“Excuse me. May I ask what you’re doing with my patient?” he asked.

“She has been selected to work in the service of-”

“Yes, I know what you’ve selected her for, but as you can see, she is in no shape for travel. Not to mention she has a young family here. Her child is still suckling,” Parmak explained, even though the child had been weaned a month prior.

“This woman has been selected on behalf-”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Parmak said, pointedly ignoring the handful of Bajorans that had gathered at the rear entrance to the carved-out little hovel that he worked and lived in.

The delay had drawn the attention of two of the overseers. They stomped in, rifles in front of them, fingers resting over the guards, but clearly itching to pull the triggers.

“What’s the hold up?” one asked.

“This woman is being given an opportunity and this traitor,” the man hissed the word at Parmak, “won’t let her take it.” The woman weakly pulled against him, trying to pry her arm from his grip. Parmak came to support her when she stumbled, something the man trying to take her away wouldn’t have done.

“She is suffering from heatstroke,” Parmak explained, trying to pry the woman from the other man’s grip without hurting her. He looked down at her face and saw her bitter amusement over the fact that she’d rather be in the arms of the Cardassian in front of her, rather than those of the Bajoran behind her.

“She is laughing! She’s clearly fine,” came from the collaborator as he wrenched the young woman back by her arm. When she cried out in pain, Parmak could swear he felt his neck ridges flare out like their ancient ancestors.

“Unhand her!” he demanded.

“Shut up, traitor,” one of the overseers ordered.

“I will not!” Pramak hissed, but the butt of one of those rifles saw to it that he did.

He was unaware of how much time had passed, but when he woke, Parmak jerked away from the pinkish, lightly furred arms that held him. He hissed out his pain, the throbbing in his head throwing him off balance. His head was pulled into a lap and a cold compress was pressed to his throbbing temple. When he tried to jerk away from the cold, a warm hand held him in place.

“Shh, relax now,” ordered a quiet, light and soothing voice. “You’ll just make it worse if you try to fuss.”

“Whahappen?” he asked, sealing his mouth shut and frowning deeply at the way he slurred. Whoever was holding him chuckled.

“You took a nasty blow from one of the overseers,” the voice cooed.

“Najole!” Parmak gasped, trying to get to a seated position. The slender arms pulled him back down.

“She’s gone,” the voice said as Parmak’s vision swam. “They took her.” When he could finally see straight, Parmak registered the face of Reya Lantus, Najole’s brother. He forced a smile. “Thank you,” he said, “for trying.” Parmak sighed and let his head rest on the Bajoran’s slender legs.

“If they took her, I didn’t try hard enough,” he muttered, letting the blonde press the cold compress back to his aching bruise.

“But you tried,” Reya said, running the fingers of his free hand through Parmak’s hair to smooth it out. “They had guns and you tried anyway.”

Over the following weeks, Parmak and Reya grew closer, and Parmak started to notice Reya’s more attractive features. He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on the lean physique, the long, delicate neck and the soft, short curls about his head. When he tried to maintain a professional distance for both their sakes – he saw the stares, heard the whispers – Reya clung harder, touching him unnecessarily and talking sweetly in a way Parmak was sure no Bajoran had ever addressed a Cardassian before.

It wasn’t long before the young man leaned in and pressed his mouth to Parmak’s.

“Lantus!” Parmak hissed quietly, his eyes darting around. “We’re both adults!” Reya looked at him strangely, those adorable furry, dirt-scuffed brows bunching in confusion.

“I should hope so,” was the confused answer.

Parmak opened his mouth to say something and then promptly closed it. They stared each other down for a long moment. “This must be a cultural difference.”

“Clearly,” Reya responded after a few heartbeats. He started to laugh. He reached out and put his hands over Parmak’s, which had been busy organizing the little supplies he had. “Maybe you should explain this to me.”

Parmak looked down at the pretty pinkish hands and sighed. He explained anyway, “After a certain age, homosexuality is disallowed in Cardassian culture.”

“Why?” Reya asked. “And what age?” he put in before Parmak could speak.

“It is considered childish and selfish not to reproduce. The age is twenty-four, after which point we are supposed to be married and start having children.” He turned one of his hands over and clasped Reya’s hand for just a moment. “What is the Bajoran attitude toward homosexuality?”

“Well, I mean,” Reya took one of his hands back to twirl a lock of hair around his finger, but he held tightly to the older man’s hand as he explained, “it’s not exactly encouraged, but it’s not like it’s illegal or anything like that. There are different bonding ceremonies from the traditional wedding, but, it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds like it is where you come from.”

“It is every Cardassian’s duty to at least replace him or herself if they aren’t too busy working,” Parmak tried to justify. It was weak. He knew it, Reya knew it, and frowned for good measure.

“Is that what you’ve been doing since you were twenty-four?”

Parmak looked away. It was answer enough.

“Well,” Reya said, hopping up on the rock-shelf in front of Parmak, “since you’re stuck here with us, you may as well live like us. Kiss me.”

“Lantus-”

“You’ve already been forsaken by your people because you have a heart. It’s not childish to have preferences. As long as you’re not hurting anyone.”

Parmak meant to evade, explain further, he really did. But somehow he found himself pressed against the tiny, furry body with long, wiry limbs wrapped around him. Mouths met in wet, open kisses and curious fingers explored all that soft skin. Quiet little gasps filled the medical alcove.

Two years later, when Reya was executed, Parmak thought that he had learned his lesson about childish displays of greed. He thought that he would surely never feel as intense a feeling as he felt for Reya – or any feeling at all, for that matter – again.

It would be some time before he’d realize just how wrong he’d been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another cute boyfriend story.
> 
> He was curled up on the couch next to me dozing lightly as I was working on this. I turned to him and said, "hey babe, hand me the remote. I want to turn on some background noise." In response to this, he reaches over to the table behind him and grabs the ranch dressing he used earlier on his salad and tried to hand it to me. "Baby. Remote, not ranch."


	3. Chapter 3

Parmak had gained a bit of a reputation as being touchphobic in post-Fire Cardassia. He didn’t intend for it to turn out that way, but he supposed it was for the better. With how he tensed when anyone so much as touched his arm, turning his gaze down at the interaction until the grip was withdrawn with a muttered apology, he could understand how the idea that he didn’t like physical contact came to pass. He made a great deal of effort to keep his interactions with others professional and, most importantly, sterile. He just wanted to feel clean. Whether that was the dust and ash and mud or his own fears talking, Parmak didn’t care to guess.

But he often craved touch. Even the gentle, friendly press of a palm against his own would suffice, but he wouldn’t even allow himself that.

He’d been tempted to extend the gesture to Garak on more than one occasion, but he usually settled with a polite nod. He was still afraid to even make eye contact with the other man. He felt foolish for it, knowing the days where Garak could even be bothered to wonder what secrets his mind held had long passed. But even so, the idea that Garak knew of his inclination kept him from wanting to see that knowledge in the other’s icy blue gaze. He put off sleep and a return to his youth to spend time with Garak, and practiced looking him in the eye after the bit he pulled at the still-growing memorials.

He’d come to find out that Garak was a rather affectionate sort, always touching him when Parmak was within an arm’s length. He couldn’t be sure if the other knew he was uncomfortable with the contact and was playing a game of sorts, or if he truly was just a hands-on person. The thought had crossed his mind that Garak was as touch-starved as he was, but Parmak quickly dismissed that thought. Garak was still attractive, still persuasive. He could find a mate if he wanted one, but he seemed content to spend his evenings with Parmak, testing the limits of how much friendly contact he would allow. Parmak took to keeping tables and other objects between them whenever he could, lest Garak figure out just how much he enjoyed the contact.

One evening, when there had been a storm on the horizon, he’d come over to check on Garak, to make sure the other wouldn’t be out and about in the rain that would soon come. To his surprise, he found the man already inside, typing away at a PADD. “Elim,” he said to announce his presence.

Garak looked up, startled. The wide-eyed expression morphed into a smile and Garak tossed the PADD aside. “Come in, come in!” he offered, standing from his chair.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Parmak asked, taking a plastic baggie of tea from his breast pocket and holding it out as a form of apology for his intrusion.

“Of course not! I could use a break,” Garak said, pushing his chair back under his desk and rounding his cot. His hands lingered on Parmak’s, frozen in surprise for a moment as the other held his gaze and smiled before taking the tea. “I’ll just put this on for us. Really, I do appreciate you stopping by. It was getting crowded in here before you scared away all the ghosts.”

“Elim,” Parmak said again, a hint of concern worming its way into his voice. Garak turned his head from the kettle to look at the doctor and smirked.

“A joke, my dear,” he said.

They shared tea, and Garak told Parmak of his effort to write his dear friend, the Starfleet doctor, Julian Bashir. Parmak, to his credit, did his level best not to let his sadness show on his face as the other man reminisced about his so-called shenanigans with the younger doctor. He found himself carried away by the tales Garak wove, cradling his warm tea under his chin, letting the sound of the other’s voice waft over him at his place by the door.

The sound of the sudden rain made Parmak gasp. He turned to look out the door and frowned. His shoulders rose a bit, along with his heckles, when he felt a presence at his side. Garak hadn’t touched him yet, being so close, and it struck him as odd, struck him with the need to say something.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Parmak said.

“No, it’s alright. I was about at a stopping point, anyway. Really, I think you’d get along well with Doctor Bashir.”

“From the sound of things, I think I would, too.” Parmak took a sip of his tea and tried to gauge how long the rain would last. He sighed quietly. “It looks like I’ll be washing my clothes tomorrow, since I’ll be going home in the rain. If you’ve enough to wash, we could go together.”

“Stay,” Garak said, cocking his head slightly. “Wait it out. If you get tired, I can make the bed for you.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Parmak said, trying to force his shoulders away from his aural ridges.

“Nonsense,” Garak said with a wave of his hand, “the place is warmer with you in it. Why don’t you come away from the door and the draft?”

“I like the rare clean air,” Parmak said through the lump in his throat.

“Aren’t you cold? We could have another cup of tea by the st-”

“I’m fine,” Parmak interrupted. He glanced at the other man, taking in his surprise at being interrupted. For a moment, Parmak thought of running, fleeing out into the rain. Garak hummed a quiet sigh and sat his cup aside on the nearest surface. “Sorry,” Parmak muttered.

“No,” Garak said, sliding up behind Parmak. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” he said as he wrapped his arms around the doctor, “but I’m just cold.”

There were always double meanings to Garak’s words that weren’t simple instructions or requests, and Parmak thought he might drown in the subtext of the ones he’d just uttered. The arms tightened around him at a harsh gust of wind that splattered drops of rust colored mud on Parmak’s trousers, and Garak buried his face in Parmak’s hair, humming as if he was considering something.

After a few minutes, Parmak relented to the contact, bringing one hand up to place it over the back of one of Garak’s. He practiced the breathing Reya had taught him, trying to absorb as much of the cool, clean air that he could as if he could store it in a hidden organ.

“Keep me warm?” Garak asked solemnly.

Parmak shivered.


	4. Chapter 4

Parmak wasn’t aware of how much time had passed, but eventually he relaxed into Garak’s embrace. When his acquiescence was satisfactory, Garak cooed his approval and they watched the rains together without a word between them. When the rain relented, so did Garak. Parmak didn’t hold out hope that the hesitation he thought he sensed as the other drew his hands away was a desire to keep him close. He lamented the loss of Garak’s presence and steeled his features before turning to face the other. How Garak could look both sad and amused as he started picking through his dirty garments stacked around the small living space, Parmak would never know.

“Laundry tomorrow?” Garak asked, gently petting a garment he’d draped over his arm.

“Of course,” Parmak answered, allowing himself a slight smile. He really did appreciate Garak making his excuses for him.

He tried not to let the thought that Garak’s excuses would become against spending time with him if he discovered his developing feelings for the man bring down his mood on his walk home.

A week later, the two would find themselves lingering around a large spot of rubble after the last rescue effort with their team. The rest of the crew had headed home, but Garak and Parmak hung around, turning over rubble listlessly. After a while, the doctor noticed his companion was particularly focused on a large, loose slab of stone.

“Could you help me move this?” Garak asked.

Interest piqued, Parmak headed over. Catching a glimpse of a gnarled treetop reaching up out of what appeared to be an impression in the middle of the pile, he braced his foot on what looked like a sturdy bit of brickwork which had remained partially standing. Joining Garak in positioning his hands on the material to move it, he joked, “planning on adding this to your memorials?”

“No. I just had a hunch… Now lift!” Both men grunted with the effort they exerted, but eventually the stone was cast aside. It hit the ground and cracked, kicking up a large cloud of dust that choked them both. Parmak jumped and coughed more when Garak thumped him on the back. The former agent rubbed soothing circles on the doctor’s back until his cough calmed to an awkward sputter. Then, he vanished through the small crevice that had been revealed.

“Oh, Kelas,” Garak moaned, making Parmak freeze in place. “You must see this.”

When Parmak got the feeling back in his extremities, he took shaky legs to the crack to peer inside. He yelped when Garak pulled him through. “Shh,” Garak instructed, his hand over Parmak’s mouth. “Look at this,” he breathed as he took his hand away. The hidden treasure Garak had found outweighed Parmak’s offence at being manhandled and his fear of enjoying the rough touch.

“Oh, Elim,” and he would have been ashamed of how breathless he sounded if he hadn’t been so amazed that he dropped to his knees. Garak wasn’t far behind. “Grass,” he marveled, spreading his hands over the prickly mat of foliage.

“As well as temtara flowers,” Garak said from the opposite end of the half closed-off area. “This tree may not have made it, but its sapling did. Look, it’s sprouting from here,” Garak said, smiling and motioning to a green shoot coming out of the charcoal bark near the dead tree’s base.

The whole area was big enough to fit a bed and maybe a desk, and had walls on all four sides. The front, where the cracked entrance was, and the rear walls were made of brick and mortar. The rubble that had collapsed against the back of the tree and tried, but failed, to wrap around it was the color of shale and sloped upward toward the center of the rubble pile they’d been investigating, and had seemingly protected the area from gathering rust colored dust and ash. The remaining wall was just a mound of toppled, cracked concrete slabs, but with the open air overhead and the tiny, deep purple flowers dotting the far walls, it appeared that Garak had found the perfect little hideaway.

“I know I haven’t been the best at respecting the distance you like to keep between yourself and others,” Garak said, taking the few steps necessary to cross the small plot of grass to take a knee in front of Parmak. The doctor sat back with his legs under him, watching Garak’s fingers twist the vines of two of the flowers he’d picked. “But I think this discovery calls for a celebration. I must touch you, if only briefly. Close your eyes,” Garak said softly, a grin on his lips. Parmak only stared at him, terrified, until Garak’s smile softened and he asked, “Please?”

Parmak took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He trembled and fisted his hands in sharp blades of grass as he heard Garak move closer. He flinched, subdued though it was, when he felt fingers brush over the top of his ear, attempting to tuck his hair behind it. He held his breath in an effort to stay still, brow ridges scrunched tightly to keep from looking at Garak to figure out what he had planned when those fingers followed the motion down the back of his ear and around to trace his aural ridges along his jaw. The length of the contact was only about five seconds – at a liberal estimate – but to Parmak it felt like an eternity of being stuck in a hot spring on an ice planet. The water was wonderful here, now, but he would freeze to death when he got out. Heaven with Hell looming on the horizon.

“There,” Garak said and gave a light and pleased little hum. When his presence pulled back a bit, Parmak opened his eyes and looked up at the other. “They suit you,” Garak said, a happy crease at the corner of his eyes. Parmak must’ve looked like he was about to ask exactly what suited him when the other answered for him; “the flowers. I put them behind your ear.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I do apologize,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry, “but I couldn’t resist.”

Parmak could feel his ridges coloring. “Elim,” he said, bringing his hand up to, but not touching, the flowers hooked over his ear. “Isn’t that a little,” he trailed off for a moment, watching the other observing the new stalk coming up from the base of the tree, “childish?”

“Living in these troubled times,” Garak said, smiling as if over some inside joke, “we shouldn’t deny ourselves the little things that bring us joy.” He waited a beat, catching Parmak’s eye. “Even if they are childish impulses.”

Parmak sat back on his knees, hands folded in his lap while Garak folded himself elegantly, managing to look composed and serene even in his filthy protective clothing. Finally touching the delicate flowers, Parmak gave a little laugh.

“May I ask why you don’t like to be touched?” Garak asked, looking away. Parmak was grateful that Garak didn’t want to make the moment seem like an interrogation by staring at him.

Though, the question did startle Parmak and he nearly knocked the flowers loose. He too looked away.

“I wouldn’t say that I don’t like to be touched, exactly. Rather it’s,” and he paused, looking for inspiration in his palms as he turned them up. He sighed when words eluded him.

“Distrust of intimacy?” Garak offered.

“That’s one way you could put it,” Parmak admitted, a bit of the tension that had been straining his back and shoulders fled and he let his shoulders sag.

“Was I the cause?” Garak asked.

“What?” Parmak seemed honestly surprised. “Oh. No. No! I’ve been this way since- well, for a quite some time.”

“But I didn’t make things easier on you,” Garak said, stealing a glance at the other to find him looking back, hands upturned on his knees in a very submissive gesture. Parmak was the first to look away, though a wry smile split his features.

“No, but we all make mistakes. You were just worried about,” Parmak paused, “him.”

“It doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“Well, you technically didn’t do anything. Either way, I forgive you. It’s in the past, and there’s no need to let that color our friendship.” He kept his hands turned up and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Garak said quietly.

They sat in contemplative silence for a while.

“You know,” Garak started, “you never did tell me your secret.”

“I’m sorry?” Parmak asked, uncurling his fingers from a meditation pose he’d assumed.

“All those years ago. You never told me the whole truth.” He waited a beat before he elaborated, “I know what you told me was true, and it was enough for the purpose of the event, but you were hiding something.”

“And I’m afraid that is something you will never find out,” Parmak said, lifting his head to force a smile for Garak.

“You, a man with secrets? It’s hard to believe.” Garak grinned. “It does give you a certain allure.”

“I only have one secret, and I’d like to take it to my grave if you don’t mind.”

“That is your choice to make,” Garak said with a nod. “But if you ever wish to talk, you know where to find me.”

“The same offer is open to you as well,” Parmak put forth.

Garak gave a rueful little smile before putting a hand on his own knee to get up. “This isn’t going to feel good,” he said with a chuckle. “Oh,” and he stretched out, things shifting, joints popping back into place, “I think I might be getting too old to sit on the ground for long periods of time.” He offered his hand to Parmak who, to his surprise, took it.

“We’re getting too old for a lot of things, my friend,” Parmak said with a groan as Garak pulled him to his feet.

“Like having secrets?” Garak teased.

“Nice try,” Parmak said, smiling. Garak tilted his head slightly, smiled back and made a noncommittal noise.

“We should have tea here tomorrow,” Garak said.

When Parmak returned home, he pressed the flowers in one of his surviving heavy medical texts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot to mention yesterday that I finished "The Crimson Shadow" in the early morning hours, while my neighbor was getting ready for work. That detail is important because I was making a lot of... shall we say... sounds. I was also making a lot of these same... sounds just a few hours ago when Dalton Castle and his boys were in tag team action on Ring of Honor. I'm sure my neighbor is at this point thinking to himself, "why did they give that chipmunk crack?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, I give you more angst and smut: the sprained ankle and blowjob edition.

Parmak decided that the most embarrassing day of his life had to be the day he sprained his ankle in Garak’s statue garden.

He did manage to get to his feet – well, foot – before Garak found him, clinging to the sturdiest pile of rubble he could find. The problem was, it was the large one, the one in the center. He sincerely doubted that he’d be able to hobble out with only the piles to hold him up, and even then he didn’t want to risk toppling the creations of the man he’d come to care for.

“Kelas?” Garak asked, looking pointedly at Parmak’s hands and how they clung to the spire. He seemed to be in a good humor when he said, “I knew you appreciated my work, but I didn’t think you liked it that much.”

“It is a particularly lovely monument,” Parmak joked weakly. His face betrayed his every feeling; his embarrassment, his trepidation, his knowledge of the impending blow to his dignity when he’d have to ask Garak to help him hobble home, and Garak’s smile softened.

“What happened?” Garak asked, extending his hand. Parmak took it and wobbled, still clutching the sturdy rock with his other hand. Garak braced the doctor, sliding up behind him to hold him upright until he felt stable enough to try to carry on a conversation.

“I fear I’ve sprained my ankle,” he admitted, lowering his lashes. “I tripped on a rock, but I managed to get to my feet. However, there is nowhere to go, it seems.”

“Why didn’t you call out for me?” Garak asked. “I’m never very far,” he promised, still holding Parmak’s hand. He let the other take some of the man’s weight, holding him by a firm press against his lower back.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Parmak said with a little shake of his head, straining to keep his voice jovial. He caught a glimpse of Garak’s frown out of the corner of his eye and felt his heart skip a beat.

“My dear, if you are injured and must ask for help, in my memorial gardens no less, I would hope you would ask for my assistance. You are never a bother, and I would do anything for you.”

The words hurt Parmak as if they were physical objects being hurled at him. He had to swallow a few times just to be able to breathe, had to sniff and tilt his head back not to give in to the prickling sensation behind his eyes and nose. He berated himself for Garak’s kind words nearly reducing him to tears, told himself he was a fool for trying to read too much into them and that he should be happy to have even the man’s friendship.

“Oh, and now the dust has gotten to you,” Garak said in reference to Parmak’s sniffling. “If something like this ever happens again, please call out for me. Now, let’s get you inside. I’ll take you home after we have tea and get something to eat.

Whether Garak understood where his sudden bout of sadness came from and intended to continue making Parmak’s excuses for him, or he really did believe that the dust and shame of getting injured had gotten to him, Parmak was grateful.

Garak helped Parmak hobble back to the shed and sat him on his cot. He filled and put the kettle on the stove and turned on the boxy device all with a few flicks of his wrist before returning to Parmak and taking a knee in front of him. The doctor tried to twist away from Garak’s touch as hands went for his shoe, but pain lancing up his leg held him still. Garak, with one hand holding the bottom of Parmak’s shoe, patted the other’s knee and sighed.

“It’s just your shoe, Kelas. Really,” Garak huffed. When he saw how was about to curl in on himself, he withdrew his hand from the other’s knee. “You’re alright,” Garak promised. “Just let me have a look at your ankle?”

“Sorry,” Parmak said, stretching out his leg.

“You’re alright,” Garak promised again, slipping off the other’s shoe. He put the shoe aside and peeled off the sock, placing it in the shoe. Parmak gasped when Garak started working his fingers along his foot and up over his ankle, humming in concentration as he felt out the muscle and ligament and bone. “Shh,” Garak cooed, “just feeling it out. Making sure it’s nothing more than a sprain.”

“You don’t have to,” Parmak said, bracing himself on his hands. “I can hobble home later and take my tricorder to it,” he hissed as Garak started to dig in his thumbs in some sort of massage.

“Well, I’m already down here,” Garak said, arching a brow ridge, a hint of something else in his voice. Parmak looked away, chewing on his lip. “And I might as well get the other one while I’m at it. If you’re too tense, injuries like this are more likely to happen.” There was a pause as Garak eased Parmak’s foot to the floor. “But, I suppose you have muscle relaxants for that, don’t you? Well, I’ll just get the tea and some bread, then we’ll get you home.”

Parmak wanted to skip the tea and snacks and head home. He was almost ready to crawl if he had to – he could sense that he’d upset Garak, and that was the last thing he’d wanted to do. Parmak jumped and let out a pained noise, one that he was relieved he could blame on the sprain, when something soft and warm was draped over his ankle and foot.

“Heating pad,” Garak supplied, unable to hide his chuckle.

Later, after tea and flatbread, Garak helped Parmak hobble home. Parmak’s tension made the walk that much more difficult, but allowed him to be pressed against Garak’s side just a little longer. He absorbed more warmth from Garak than he felt the heating pad could ever provide, knowing the chill that would follow would be devastating.

Inside, Garak helped him out of his shoes and socks. He grabbed the tricorder and handed it to Parmak, then started sifting through the small pile of clothing in the corner. After Parmak closed the device, Garak turned and looked at Parmak, a slight frown on his face.

“Something wrong?”

“Where are your night clothes?” Garak asked.

“Oh, uh,” Parmak sputtered, his ridges coloring. “W-well, I usually,” he trailed off with a shrug.

“If you sleep in your clothes, how do you manage to look so nice during the day?” Garak asked, moving closer. He took a chair from what served as Parmak’s worktable and turned it to sit next to where the other was perched on the bed.

“No, I sleep nude,” Parmak said, surprised he managed to get it out.

“Oh,” Garak said, his brow rising and his face coloring.

“Sorry,” Parmak muttered.

“No need to apologize. Do whatever it is that makes you comfortable,” Garak said with a nod.

“It is cold tonight. Maybe I will break out my sleep pants,” he said, mentally berating himself all the while.

Garak perked up at that. “Where are they?” he asked, standing.

“Cabinet with the silver handle,” Parmak answered, regretting his decision. He rubbed his hands over his face while Garak’s back was turned.

Garak made quick work of helping Parmak into a different pair of pants, even if he did feel like Garak purposefully touched his hip ridges more than necessary just to see him shiver. He nearly lost his balance once when he tried to stiffen and suppress the reaction, but Garak held him firmly against his side. Garak herded Parmak into bed, pulling the covers up over him after his shirt was cast aside.

“Do you need anything else?” Garak asked, picking through the pile of clothes, sorting and half-folding them just to make them easier to stack.

“No. You’ve done more than I could’ve asked for already.” He turned his head to the far wall when Garak came back over, taking the chair again.

“Then can you do something for me?” Garak asked.

Prmak looked back, confused, held in Garak’s gaze. He wished the words hadn’t come out so airy when he asked, “What can I do?” Garak simply held up his hand in an offer for Parmak to press their palms together.

“I know you don’t really like the contact,” Garak started, “but you worried me today. To think that you wouldn’t call out for me when you needed me…”

“Elim, I’m so sorry,” Parmak said, reaching up to complete the gesture, pressing his palm to Garak’s. “I was embarrassed. I am embarrassed of a great many things, and I don’t want the person I’ve come to care for the most to see any of them.”

“Those are the only people we’re supposed to let see us at our worst,” Garak said, smiling. He sighed when he took his hand back, pulled the covers up to Parmak’s chin and put the chair back before he spoke again. “I’ll come check on you in the morning. Get some rest,” and with that he was out the door.

Parmak often recalled Reya after close calls with Garak discovering his inclination. He never quite understood why, considering Teror had more closely resembled Garak. A different race, sure, but they had the same confidence, the same presence and the same tendency to be affectionate in public. Yet, it was the slender blonde on his mind when Garak came just a little too close to the truth.

Maybe, he would sometimes think, it was because Reya had been so open abaout who he was. He hadn’t feared for his health or safety and would just thread his fingers in Parmak’s hair and kiss him soundly. Maybe, he thought, eyes glazed over as he fussed with his blankets until they fell aside leaving him laying half naked on his mattress, thoughts of Reya came because he wanted Garak to be that carefree spirit who pulled him from his misery with soft kisses and curious fingers. The idea of Garak being that unencumbered by social policy alone was enough to make Parmak snort. He knew he’d never be the sort who could be kissed, much less kissed in a semi-public area, so he gave in to memory.

Sneaking in under cover of darkness and injury to swap heated kisses and furtive, curious touches with Parmak was taking its toll on Reya. The bags under those wide, blue eyes had grown and gotten darker with each visit, yet the young man seemed happy. Knowing the younger man couldn’t go on forever like this, losing sleep and completing his backbreaking work, Parmak used what little sway he had left with the overseers and came up with a plan.

It took weeks to negotiate, but eventually he came up with a plan that would allow every worker – every slave, as they should have been called – one day off a week. They would take days off in shifts, keeping families and young couples and pairs of best friends together to the best of Parmak’s organizational ability, and the rest of the week they would work half an hour longer each day to make up any deficit the relaxation period may create. He even managed to wrangle himself a Bajoran assistant who was grateful to be pulled from the mines and put her medical expertise to use, even if it was only three days a week.

Parmak made sure to schedule his own day off on the same as Reya’s, and was rewarded with a lapful of blonde when the younger man found him outside, basking in the sun and reading a Bajoran text he’d been gifted.

“Thank you,” Reya gasped out between kisses. He straddled Parmak, bare knees from the rips in his pants tickled by blades of grass he seldom saw in those days. “Thank you,” he said again, running slender fingers over neck ridges, massaging them in a rough way that he’d come to find Parmak thoroughly enjoyed. Gray hands shot up to pull the slender body closer, book forgotten.

“For what, exactly?” Parmak asked against the corner of that wet, pink mouth.

“Everyone knows you were the one behind the days off. Don’t be shy,” the younger man cooed, grinning, wrapping his arms around Parmak’s neck. The doctor let his hands wander up the gently sloping back, under Reya’s too-loose shirt. It earned him a shiver.

“And just how do you know this?” Parmak teased. “And how do you know I did it for you and not to get back in the good graces of my government?” In response, Reya gave a little huff against Parmak’s aural ridges, getting his own answering shiver.

“Why would you give us time off for that?” Reya asked with an enticing little wiggle, pushing himself closer to Parmak. His erection pressed into Parmak’s belly, making the older man gasp.

He couldn’t help but growl when he spoke, tracing the sharp shoulder blades with his fingers, “healthy workers are better workers, and letting people get proper rest leads to better health.”

“So, it’s for our health,” Reya said, pulling only his upper body back, hands moving back to the darkening, thickening ridges to stroke the sensitive underside with his thumbs. The blonde grinned as if he’d won the conversation, wiggling again.

“Oh, Lantus,” Parmak breathed, dragging his nails down the unprotected back. He almost everted when the younger man whimpered and arched his back, squeezed his ridges harder.

“And to see me, I hope,” Reya managed against the corner of Parmak’s mouth before sealing their lips together. “I want,” he barely got out around Parmak returning the aggressively affectionate gesture, “to see you.” Reya shimmied out of his shirt and Parmak, possessed by passion, cast it aside before drawing his hands up that expanse of skin once more. “Please take this off,” he begged, tugging at the collar of Parmak’s shirt.

“Out here?” the older man gasped, even though he had every intention of ripping off Reya’s trousers and taking him in the grass.

“No one comes out here,” Reya pleaded, pushing his hands as far under the collar as the material would let him. “It’s cooler in the caves and the overseers can’t come out until their switch. Please, it feels so good in my hand, I want to see it. See you. All of you.”

Parmak eased Reya off of his lap, reminding himself to be gentle with the body that was already delicate even when it wasn’t malnourished, and pulled off his shirt. Before the fabric hit the ground, soft fingers were tracing every ridge and dip, sounds of awe coming from a too-red, swollen mouth. When nails caught on a particularly sensitive set of scales, Parmak hissed, “Lantus, you’re making me crazy.”

“Good,” Reya countered. “Now take it all off and lay out so I can get a good look at you.”

It wasn’t long before the midday sun found the two of them sprawled, naked on the grass, Reya’s fingers curiously trailing over the moist scales of Parmak’s slit. “You really do keep it inside,” the blonde marveled. He probed carefully, testing the give of the slit and making Parmak squirm. “Let me see it,” he whispered, pressing his own erection to Parmak’s thigh.

“It’s very different from yours,” Parmak warned.

“I could feel that in the dark,” Reya teased, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste Parmak’s lubricant. The older man gave a quiet moan at the sight and dug his heels into the soft earth, pushing his hips up as he everted. “Oh,” Reya breathed, getting to his knees. His own length hung, hot and heavy and huge – by Parmak’s comparison – between his legs as he straddled the doctor’s lower legs and leaned in close to get a better look. “It’s so pink,” the blonde muttered, turning wide blue eyes up toward the other’s face while he cautiously trailed his fingers over the organ. “I guess we really are all pink inside,” he said, his tongue darting out for a taste from the source.

Parmak had had a smart comeback about some other species or another, but it died on his tongue when Reya took him in his mouth, all the way to his slit and moaned. He fisted his hands in the grass and tried not to let himself go too early, flexing the muscles of his groin and drinking in the way Reya whimpered when Parmak’s prick jumped in his mouth. He huffed out a long sigh that faded into a groan when Reya pulled off and pushed his curls out of his eyes, lips glistening with Pramak’s lubricant, a tiny pink tongue trying to lick it away.

“Can you,” he asked, breathless, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few long, slow strokes, “do that at will?”

“Yes,” Parmak hissed, unable to resist the urge to thrust his hips up in pursuit of friction.

Reya moaned, “That’s going to feel so good inside me. But later. We have all day, after all.” He bent to take Parmak back in his mouth, but a gentle touch under his chin stopped him.

“It-” Parmak had to swallow in order to be able to speak, “It may take some maneuvering, but if you came up here and turned around, we could both-” before he could finish his thought, his head was straddled by furry thighs, one of Reya’s hands guiding his length into Parmak’s mouth. Both moaned as the long, fleshy prick tested Parmak’s gag reflex.

Laying on his bed, clothed only in a pair of threadbare bottoms, hard and everted and injured, with his fingers pressing against his throat to best mimic the sensation of being choked on Bajoran dick, Parmak mourned the events that led him to his sorry state. He hoped Garak would sleep in instead of coming to check on him in the morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Garak and Parmak took to having tea in their hidden outdoor room when they could, bringing it there in a thermos of the doctor’s. Garak provided the snacks.

In their hideaway, even the noise of the outside world faded to a soft music, machinery and people’s shouting voices pounding out a beat that barely made their ears. Garak brought small projects to work on, or typed away on his PADD between sips of tea and bits of conversation. Parmak brought books or counted blades of grass, just happy to be away from the bustle of the rebuilding city, free of the responsibility of having people’s lives in his hands.

Garak seemed to be always touching him, still, maybe even more so when they were hidden away. Yet it didn’t seem so invasive somehow. He’d brush crumbs from Parmak’s lap or from his sleeves, or he would knock his leg against Parmak’s when it looked like the doctor was going to nod off. If he did manage to fall asleep, Parmak would occasionally wake up to Garak laying next to him, thumbing through whatever book Parmak brought or asleep himself, back pressed to back.

Parmak liked those moments the most, when Garak was sleeping in the grass next to him. It would allow him to turn and look at the man, to memorize the details of his face and neck ridges and, should Garak be on his back, to observe the rise and fall of his chest and the pattern on his tunic. Parmak would often find himself wanting to touch the slight curls at the nape of Garak’s neck, but he couldn’t work up the courage to, always afraid that Garak may only be pretending to sleep.

He did, however, scent the air a few times under the pretense of smelling the grass. He could admit to himself, in the calm, safe area, that he loved the way Garak smelled. Earthy, flowery and, yes, old. He likened it to a fine kanar rather than the scent that came with someone who knew they were at Death’s door. He would give a happy little hum after getting a taste of a sleeping Garak’s scent, able to imagine – just for a moment – that they were a couple of old riding hounds with a compassionate owner and were put out to pasture instead of put down, spending their days lazing together in the sun.

One day, Garak grunted and threw his PADD across the small area. It wasn’t very hard, more of a toss than a throw, but it startled Parmak nonetheless.

“Letter not going very well?” he asked.

“I apologize for the outburst,” Garak said, drawing his knees up to rest his elbows on them, having been leaning back against the trunk of the tall tree stump. “But I’m not sure if I even want to keep writing it.”

Parmak sat up, picking a blade of grass to mark his place in his book. He closed it and set it aside, turning to face the other. “You should send your friend something, as he’s been writing you on a regular basis,” Parmak advised cautiously.

“I know, and I will, but that,” he gestured to the PADD, “makes me look insane.”

“Well, things are pretty rough around here,” Parmak said, drawing his legs up under himself. “They are taking their toll on everyone’s mental health.”

“Even yours?” Garak teased.

“Do you even need to ask?” Parmak countered. He knew Garak couldn’t know that he was scared constantly, that he was terrified his companion would find out about his feelings and he would be stuck on a world where people would only let him treat them out of necessity, in life or death situations. That he was worried that he was growing too comfortable in the moments the two of them shared here and was always wary that the damning words would slip from his lips.

“No, I suppose not,” Garak said, a sad smile sitting wetly on his lips. “Well!” he said, wiping his hands on his trousers and turning to the bag he’d brought with him, the one that usually contained his sewing projects. “I recently came into possession of something I think we could both enjoy,” he said, taking two small cups and a bottle from his bag. He held up the clear bottle, the blue liquid shimmering in the light. “It’s a little… Runny, but it’ll do.” He poured both cups half way and handed one off to Parmak. “What shall we toast?” Garak asked.

“Hmm,” Parmak hummed, looking down at the glass. “How about to the will plants have to survive, and,” he trailed off, running his free hand over the grass, “to those who give that will a voice.” Garak smiled and raised his glass, a glint of something in his eye.

They both drank, and Garak offered to refill Parmak’s glass. The doctor turned the offer down, sitting his glass on top of his book. He watched Garak drink another glass, watching his throat bob while his eyes were turned skyward.

“You sure you don’t want any more?” Garak asked, wiggling the bottle.

“One of us has to remember the way home,” Parmak quipped.

Garak’s smile widened. “That’s true,” he said.

For once the silence was enjoyable for Parmak as well as Garak. The shorter man laid back on the grass while Garak sipped cheap kanar, and both closed their eyes. It was a cool day, but the winds had died down enough that dust wasn’t being sprayed in people’s faces the moment they stepped outside, so the two just took a moment to enjoy the peace and the sounds of joy that drifted in from the city on holiday.

“So,” Garak started, halfway through his bottle.

“Oh no,” Parmak said playfully. Garak snorted.

“Where- or rather, I guess – what did you imagine the future would be like ten years ago? Did you ever think it would come to this?” Parmak closed his eyes tightly in response to Garak’s question. When he didn’t answer right away, Garak tried again with, “Where did you think you’d be?”

“I thought I’d be dead by now, if I’m completely honest.”

“I thought the same of myself,” Garak said quietly. Parmak opened an eye and glanced at Garak, watching the man down another cup. “But I’m glad I didn’t, no matter how hard it’s been. And,” he continued, knocking back one more drink straight from the bottle before capping it and shimmying down to lay in the grass next to Parmak, “I’m glad I got to see you again. Your friendship is my absolution.” He offered the other his palm and Parmak readily took it.

The two laid in the grass, side by side and facing each other, palms pressed together. Garak’s smile was still watery, but the most honest he’d ever seen on the other man. Parmak’s throat constricted at the affectionate look the other was giving him, his nose both overwhelmed and pleased by the alcohol on Garak’s breath. It was a comforting scent that almost lured him into crying, into burying his face in the other’s neck and sobbing about his frustrations. But he didn’t. He resolved himself not to, not to ever burden this man.

When Garak fell into a post-alcohol slumber, Parmak wrapped Garak’s hand in his and pulled it to his lips to brush a kiss over the knuckles, promising himself that this moment would be his last display of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After finishing this chapter, I got up to go to the bathroom and noticed that my hair had turned itself into an emo swoop.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of Blood and Bleach and BROHUGS

It isn’t long before the Federation shows up on Cardassia. Parmak couldn’t be more grateful. Not only is it a wonderful distraction from his growing affection for Garak, but it also only takes a couple hours of paperwork and a couple more of waiting until he has decent, new medical supplies in his possession.

The new medical supplies fit right into the plugs in his generator, Starfleet having accounted for the technology left on Prime before passing theirs out. Parmak is excited that he doesn’t have to sit still for yet another hour to strip and coil and press copper wires until they connect with the unit. He still keeps his old equipment hooked up, letting them complete one last charge before they are delegated to the drawer Parmak deemed ‘in case of emergency’ with a bitter chuckle. Before the old equipment, the only contents of the drawer were a hypospray with a lethal dose – for anyone but the heartiest of Vulcans or Romulans – of Morphine.

Parmak felt good, satisfied with his work. It numbed his desire to stand within Garak’s reach and let the man paw at him. It took a child to show Parmak just how distant he’d become from his people.

He’d taken his new osteogenic regenerator to her broken little toe and she threw her arms around his middle in thanks. He recovered from his shock quickly and knelt, picking the girl up when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Vera,” her mother scolded, hurrying over to the two to pry her from the other’s arms. “You know he doesn’t like to be touched,” she hissed. The girl looked thoroughly chastised and buried her face in her mother’s collar, muttering apologies.

“It’s alright,” Parmak said, stepping over to pat and ruffle the girl’s short hair. “I can spare a little affection for the smallest among us. They are the ones who need it the most, knowing only this destruction. Have a wonderful day, ma’am,” he said with a polite nod to the mother.

Home, after making his rounds, he put the tricorder, which was the only device that needed charging, in its dock and sat at the table where the generator sat off to one side. He put his head in his hands and just sat there, berating himself over not even being able to handle the innocent gratitude of a child. He’d had every intention of immersing himself in Ghemor’s most recent newsletter, but all he found himself able to do was fight back tears.

Some time later, Garak showed up. His knock startled Parmak from his misery, the sound of the new door he’d recently installed so different from the old one made of heavy wood. He looked around before he got up to answer the door, stunned at how the size of his living quarters had increased, as if he’d been transported along with his things to a new home. He knew the creation was by his own hand, and with the help of others – Federation and Cardassian – who’d wanted a set location for a doctor’s office; they’d cleaned up the rubble around his place and knocked down the far wall to extend the building into where the other two units once stood. Two were to be his home, and the third a small clinic complete with Starfleet biobeds and steri-field generators. He found Garak smiling and gave a tired one of his own in response.

“Elim,” he said, stepping back and splaying one arm, “come in.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t wake you,” Garak said. “And here I was with a peace offering, ready to apologize for rousing you from your sleep.” Garak grinned and extended the treat he’d brought anyway. Chocolates.

Parmak laughed and took the box. He held it close while he asked, “shall I put on some coffee?”

“You do look very tired,” Garak said, extending a hand as if to push Parmak’s hair from his face. He stopped shy and took his hand back, but his smile didn’t falter. “If you want to hear about the visitor I just had, you may want to.”

Terran coffee had grown in popularity rapidly among Cardassians. Many brought Parmak coffee beans and grounds and sugar in thanks for treating them, so he had a supply ready to put on the stove. They shared the bittersweet brew and Garak explained his visit from Madred. He reached out across the table and took Parmak’s hand when the other seemed to be shrinking away. He’d always feared that political differences would drive a wedge between them. Parmak had been thinking it was for the better when Garak took his hand, and he turned a scared, curious stare up at the other man.

“Kelas,” he started, his smile softening, putting a lid on his excitement. “My dear,” he said with a shake of his head. “You of all people should know that I’m not going to join them. Not in the long run, anyway. Just long enough to listen. To see who this old schoolmate of mine is.”

Over the next few weeks, Parmak watched Garak disappear inside himself. Burial detail was really taking its toll on him. It was taking its toll on all of them. There were no more amorous dalliances between Reya’s mockeries and hateful words in Parmak’s dreams.

The two still spent evenings together, trying to talk politics or discuss births or equipment and utilities the Federation was bringing back online, but Garak was unusually blunt. He would stare at Parmak out of the corner of his eye when he was supposed to be working on his letter. The doctor didn’t say anything, merely made their tea with water he’d brought from home, being given first priority of running water in the area on account of his clinic. What had served as a road behind his place was still torn up from the lines being reinstalled.

When that devious sparkle had left Garak’s stare, Parmak found that it was no longer a challenge to meet Garak’s eye. On the rare occasions he looked directly at him, that is.

When he found Garak curled up on the floor of his growing shed, having been helped along by Federation plasticrete, hiding behind his cot and surrounded by the pieces of a shattered PADD, Parmak decided it was time to learn to give a friendly touch. He picked up the pieces of the device and sat them on Garak’s workbench before taking a knee in front of Garak.

“Oh, my dear Elim,” he said, reaching out with a shaking hand. He considered going for his tricorder, knowing this would be easier should he be able to slip on a mask of professionalism. But Garak wasn’t sick. He wasn’t hurt. Not physically.

No sooner had his hand found Garak’s shoulder – carefully, tenderly – than he was pulled into a hug, Garak’s legs spreading to give him room. Garak pushed Parmak’s face into his neck with a quaking hand, gasping for air around tears over Parmak’s head. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so, so sorry, my dearest Kelas.” Garak reeked of kanar and if Parmak hadn’t been so startled he would have almost wanted to ask where he’d found more of the stuff. Instead he tried to get to a seated position, one where he could comfortably return the embrace. “I know- I know I’ve said it so many times- that you aren’t comfortable with me acting this way, but I- oh, Kelas,” he babbled, tightening his grip on the other. “I can’t do this alone. I need a friend.”

“I am your friend, Elim,” Parmak said, closing his eyes tightly, clinging to what was left of Garak’s lovehandles.

“Then why does touching me hurt you so?” Garak asked into Parmak’s hair. “Do I disgust you?”

“Elim, no,” Parmak said, shaking his head sadly against the other’s collar. “It’s nothing to do with you. You don’t disgust me. Far from it.” Garak wouldn’t release Parmak, but he did allow the smaller man to pull back just enough that they could see each other’s faces. Garak had stopped crying, but tears still lingered along the lower edges of his eye ridges. Parmak’s eyes shined with unshed tears, but he held Garaks gaze and forced out, “I disgust me.”

Garak couldn’t speak for a moment, his mouth agape, face twisted in confusion. “Why?” was all he could manage, his hands slipping down to rest in the bends of Parmak’s arms.

“I can’t say, Elim,” Parmak said, absolutely needing to say the other’s name. “I wish I could,” he paused to give Garak’s middle a little squeeze, “I wish I could, but I couldn’t bear to have you hate me.”

Garak let his hands wander up Parmak’s arms as he said, “I could never hate you.” He took the smaller face in his hands and just held him there. “You’re the one who brings life back into this desolate wasteland. The one who tenderly cares for the sick and injured and doesn’t discriminate for any reason. Whatever you’ve done can be forgiven. I,” he stressed, “forgive you.”

“You wouldn’t if you knew,” Parmak whispered, letting Garak pull him closer until their foreheads touched. Parmak remembered then a time he’d slipped up.

A man from their medical detail had noticed Parmak looking at Garak, as the former spy was distracted by another task, with an apparently undisguised longing. He’d moved in close, but still kept a respectable difference between them. He merely meant to quietly tell Parmak, “ _You know, sometimes it is better to want something than to have it._ ”

Parmak shivered, clinging to Garak. “I promise I’ll make an effort to give you more attention, or affection, or whatever it is that you need,” Parmak said, trying to just hold still. “I will try, but please be patient with me.”

“No,” Garak said, finally letting Parmak go, letting his hands fall to the floor between them. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ve done that enough already.” He closed his eyes.

“Elim,” Parmak breathed, drawing Garak into his arms. “I want nothing more than to hold you,” he swore, finally able to pet those soft curls he’d wanted to feel for so long. “But I just can’t. Not for long. It’s just too much.” He added in a whisper, “I don’t deserve it.” Then, at his previous volume, “Just let me try to be a better friend.” He managed not to tense when Garak’s hands drew up his back.

“You’re already the closest I’ve ever had.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Because fuck Julian, amirite?)


	8. Chapter 8

When Garak would turn up to work tired, Parmak decided to investigate. He was trying to be a better friend, after all, even if Garak seemed to have forgotten his drunken, needy behavior. He found that Garak had taken to taking nighttime walks, explaining why the other hadn’t been home when Parmak stopped by some evenings.

“Hello, friend,” he said when he found Garak milling about just beyond the crevice that led to their hideaway. “Mind if I join you?” Parmak asked, falling into stride alongside the other.

“I would love it if you’d join me. Your company is far more pleasant than my demons.” Garak smiled brightly, the light of the moon catching his teeth and his ocular ridges.

“Demons?” Parmak asked, cocking his head. He folded his hands behind his back, reminding himself to give off a more personable appearance. A more open appearance, exposing his tender belly.

“Ah, my dear, I’ll have to lend you some books when I get my hands on them again.”

Parmak gave a thoughtful hum and let that subject drop. “I was surprised you weren’t home. I checked your memorial gardens and then I decided to check our little patch of grass.”

“I had considered hiding in there for a bit, but it’s just not the same without you,” Garak said, the mischievous glint back in his eye. Touched, Parmak couldn’t help a little shiver.

“So you walk the streets by your lonesome?”

“Lonesome indeed,” Garak said, bumping his elbow against Parmak’s. “But not anymore.”

They completed the walk in silence that night, but many more lively ones would follow.

“Yes, but what if the general consensus is factually incorrect?” Garak asked, tipping his head in Parmak’s direction as they strolled along, their path lit only by the sliver of moon overhead.

“Then we all fail together, Elim. It’s easier to learn from our mistakes when we have the chance to make them. How can we even begin to comprehend right and wrong when all we’re given is orders?”

“Hmm, but what gives us the right to determine right and wrong?”

“What gives anyone the right to determine right and wrong? Is there an objective right and wrong?” Garak beams at that, eyes glinting, and walks just a little bit closer to his companion. “Is our way the right way, or is it just the only way we knew?”

“Let’s continue this conversation in our hideaway. The temtara should be releasing their pods soon,” Garak said, briefly taking hold of Parmak’s wrist. He let his fingers slip away, brushing the other’s hand as he took the lead, turning onto the alley that led to the cracked wall. “Tell me something you took issue with from the old way of life,” Garak said as he ducked into the entrance.

“Elim, I really don’t think-” Parmak started, following the other in, his words catching in his throat at the sight of the flowers and their faintly glowing centers.

“No, tell me,” Elim said, offering Parmak his hand.

Parmak took it, letting himself be pulled in and positioned, apparently for the best view of the flowers.

Parmak took a deep breath. He thought for a moment of all the things he could mention, but most of which they’d discussed to death. Then an idea struck him. “Fine, if you’re alright with hearing it in the form of a story.”

“I do love a good story,” Garak said, lips and jaw tense as he tried to hide his excitement. The way his eyes glittered in the low light gave him away and Parmak shook his head.

“When I was very little, a man lived across the street from my family,” Parmak said, moving closer to the flowers. He looked at them as he spoke instead of Garak, wanting to be completely honest. He no longer feared Garak’s gaze, but he still thought he might lose his nerve. This would be as close as he came to telling the other his big secret. “He had a roommate,” he said with a certain inflection to his voice. “Neither were married, nor had any children. They were rumored to have peculiar tastes.

“One was a glinn, so he was in and out, but the other worked for my father’s practice. I suppose those details don’t matter, but they were real people with real jobs and lives. Productive members of society, even though they weren’t seen as such.

“One day, the body of the man who worked for my father was found with a word carved into his chest. Can you guess what that word was?” Parmak asked, turning toward Garak. He could feel tears building in his eyes.

“I think I could venture a guess,” Garak answered solemnly, stepping closer to Parmak. He didn’t yet touch him, but he splayed his hands like he was getting ready to catch the other. “Go on.”

“Well, for the sake of brevity; the glinn had to find out when he came home from a six month tour. He was grief stricken, and discharged from the military, suddenly a pariah for mourning the loss of someone he cared for. The police were in my neighborhood again in short order, this time cleaning up a messy suicide.” Parmak took a deep breath. “The worst part was the way it was just dismissed. My father only said, ‘he was a good assistant, too bad he had such proclivities.’”

“Sometimes,” Garak said, bringing a hand up to rub soothing circles on the hard, protective scales of Parmak’s upper back, “a good idea becomes a bad one when taken too far.” Parmak sniffed and shook away his tears, looking at Garak, raising a brow ridge in question. “It is a good thing to encourage citizens to pair off and reproduce,” Garak explained, “but never at the expense of those with no desire to. That hatred that would possess someone to do that a fellow citizen because they had a different sexual preference should have never have existed in the first place. I will grant you this round, as that was a result of our overzealous nature toward order, having such a violent reaction when someone was the slightest bit off the so-called perfect path.” Garak sighed. “I do have hope that that is one of those Federation ideals that we will adopt.”

“I don’t,” Parmak admitted. “Especially not right now. Not when our population has taken such a blow. If it becomes known that someone has peculiar taste…” Parmak shivered, letting Garak pull him into his chest. He sighed and rested his forehead against the taller man’s collar.

The two stayed that way for several minutes, Garak resting his chin on Parmak’s head.

“Kelas,” Garak said, drawing the other out of whatever place he’d gone to in his head. “Look.”

Parmak’s breath caught when he looked up, eyes widening as he realized that the area was filled with lazily floating, softly glowing temtara seeds. The pale yellow glimmers cast muted flickers of light over the two, and Parmak took Garak’s hands in his excitement. “Oh, Elim,” Parmak said quietly, as if he was afraid he’d scare the seeds away by speaking too loud.

Garak chuckled quietly. “You know,” he said, enjoying the rare look of glee on his companion’s face, “if you were more comfortable with me, I might give in to some very childish impulses right now.” Garak gave a reserved smile when Parmak turned his awed gaze at him. “They really do suit you,” he said, plucking one of the glowing seeds from Parmak’s hair. He tucked the seed into a pocket on the inside of his vest, patting it affectionately as if to assure himself that it would stay.

“Even in all this destruction,” Parmak marveled, smiling, shaking, scared.

“There’s still joy to be found,” Garak finished for him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parmak's wet dream and Garak's failed scheme.

Garak’s fingers gave the most amazing sensation, dragging along the engorged scales of Parmak’s slit. The doctor whined, spreading his legs further, encouraging the touch. He pressed into it, a blunt finger just barely spreading the scales, lubricant swelling around the breach, making the glide easier.

Garak shushed the whimper, brushing his lips over super sensitive aural ridges. Parmak’s breath caught, his prUt extending just enough to part his slit, and Garak’s finger slipped right in. Only up to the second knuckle, the finger wriggled. Parmak panted, trying to push back on the digit. Garak shushed him again, holding his companion down by a grip on his neck ridge. The finger slipped deeper, probing Parmak’s insides, rubbing, massaging, drawing Parmak’s prUt out to its full length.

“Oh, that’s lovely, my dear,” Garak whispered, curling his finger up behind the prUt, massaging the erectile tissues. Parmak’s prick dribbled his excitement while he fisted his hands in the sheets, trying to keep still.

“Please, Elim,” he pleaded, licking his lips and staring up at the other.

“In time, in time,” Garak soothed, dragging the fingers of his free hand down Parmak’s arm, pushing his fingers into the clenched fist. Mimicking what his other finger was doing, Parmak’s fist relaxed, letting Garak in. Agonizingly slowly, Garak worked a second finger into Parmak’s purse. The doctor whined at the pressure, unable to keep himself from clenching and making sounds.

“Please,” he barely breathed, “oh, please! More.” His mouth fell agape when the two fingers pressed in to the knuckle.

“Like this?” Garak teased, giving a playful wiggle that had Parmak arching off the bed.

“Yes,” Parmak hissed, his prUt twitching when he clenched again. “I need you inside me.”

“I’m already inside you, my dear,” Garak cooed against Parmak’s flushed jaw. Parmak shook his head, Garak’s grin brushing his swollen scales as he did so.

“Need your- your-” he trailed off in a whine, humping down on the fingers, desperate to be stretched wider. “Want,” he panted, “to pleasure you too.”

“If only you knew how much you already are,” Garak whispered. His tongue darted out, tracing Parmak’s lower aural ridge. He nipped when Parmak shivered, grinned when the doctor cried out. “Just give me another minute. I want you wide open for me. I want you ready.” Parmak couldn’t keep his hips on the bed when a third finger added pressure to the lining of his purse.

“Please, please,” Parmak begged, one hand on Garak’s forearm, the other tearing at the sheets. “I’m not going to last much longer!”

“Then come, my dear. We have all night.”

Parmak woke up to slicked sheets, still everted, still humping the mattress. He groaned miserably, fisting a hand in his hair and biting his pillow. He continued to rut against the wet spot until his prick receded and his emissions cooled and became tacky.

He rinsed himself off and made coffee.

A few hours later, he gathered up his sheets and a couple sets of scrubs. He took them outside to the tub and scrubbing board he had set up for public use. For someone as hygienic as he, it was both wonderful and disconcerting that it rarely saw use. He wasn’t surprised that the common cold spread like wildfire. People never washed their clothes, it seemed. He grumbled to himself about public health and safety while scrubbing his linens clean, and berated himself for having so little control over his body. He had been neglecting to meditate, he thought, and closed his eyes for a moment.

“I agree,” he heard, jumping, flinging water around the area, “we could all stand to take better care of our clothes.”

“Oh, Elim,” he said, his face coloring. “You about gave this old man a heart attack,” Parmak complained, flicking drops of soapy water at his visitor out of spite. Garak easily dodged them, a grin splitting his features.

“I do apologize, but you were so intent on berating the current public health counsel that I couldn’t bear to interrupt you.” Elim sat on one of the larger rocks positioned around the tub even though he had no laundry of his own. “Your sheets?” he noticed. “Didn’t you just wash them a few days ago?”

The color that had started to fade from Parmak’s face flared up again, and he turned his glare down at the cloth he was scrubbing. “I had a bit of an accident,” he admitted.

“Ah, we are getting to that age,” Garak said, nodding as if he understood the plight.

A ‘not that kind of accident,’ was on the tip of Parmak’s tongue, but he just shook his head. He’d let the other assume. “We’re not that old,” Parmak grumbled. Garak’s eyes sparked in the rare patch of sunshine that managed to work its way through the constantly overcast sky.

“No,” he said, “I suppose we’re not.”

Parmak was surprised that he found the silence comfortable, especially with how Garak watched him clean the sheets he’d accidentally loved on while dreaming about said observer. In fact, Parmak felt unusually bold. He blamed it on the sunshine and asked, “Do you ever miss the comfort women?”

“I,” Garak started, drawing out the word in his confusion, “was never inside the military long enough to partake. Not that I would have wanted to,” he assured the doctor. “I find it difficult to, uh, maintain an amorous mood without a partner who can carry on a conversation.” Something seemed to click for Garak, and he leveled Parmak with a devious stare. “Do you?” he asked.

“Oh, I never,” Parmak said with a shake of a fully flushed head, “I could never have a partner who wasn’t entirely willing.”

“Ah, but they technically had a choice. Not that it was a good one either way. Some would say it’s better than dealing with nighttime emissions,” Garak teased. Parmak scrubbed harder. “I could help you with that, you know.”

“With what?” Parmak asked, his voice cracking, the fabric ripping in his hands.

“Your laundry,” Garak cooed, “and now your mending.”

Garak told Parmak about his plan to infiltrate Madred’s meeting as he stitched up the dried sheet later that day. Parmak expressed a mandatory displeasure at Garak’s underhanded tactics, smiling all the while. As soon as Garak answered, “I understand,” Parmak said,

“Now tell me exactly what you’re going to do.”

Garak came straight to Parmak after he willingly failed his mission, immediately confessing his inability to carry out his self-imposed orders, his laughter, his unspoken conversation with Pythas.

“Oh, my dear Elim,” Parmak said, stepping into a pleasantly surprised Garak’s personal space. “If you thought I’d be disappointed in you, you’re sorely mistaken.” He put his hands on Garak’s shoulders, only hesitating for a moment. Garak noticed the pause, but gave an appreciative smile regardless. “I’m so proud of you I could kiss you.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, his shoulders hunching, eyes going wide.

“Then by all means,” Garak said, “kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, things are happening!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things, they be a hapenin'.

“I, uh,” Parmak stuttered, not knowing where he was going with that. He stumbled back, clenching his hands over his chest.

“Well?” Garak asked, closing his eyes. “I’m waiting.” He tilted up his chin.

Parmak swallowed thickly. He summoned up every bit of courage he could find, fists clenched in his own shirt, and took a cautious step closer. After a deep breath he leaned forward and pressed a chaste peck to Garak’s cheek. The other’s shoulders sagged.

“What a passionate kiss,” Garak deadpanned, opening his eyes and raising his brows.

“E-Elim, I- I-“ Parmak stammered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Do I need to show you how to kiss?” Garak asked, folding his hands behind his back. He watched Parmak curl in on himself, watched his pupils dilate.

“Please don’t do this to me, Elim. I care for you so much, I don’t want to-”

“Don’t want to what?” Garak asked, stepping forward, lifting his hands toward Parmak. The doctor flinched, drawing his hands up over his face. “You don’t want to find something to enjoy in this,” Garak splayed his hands, “mess?” He waited a beat before, “that’s your big secret, isn’t it? That you’re homosexual? That you’re attracted to the former Obsidian Order agent who interrogated you years ago? I’m offering myself to you, Kelas.”

“Elim, please, don’t do this to yourself just for my sake,” Parmak pleaded, turning away. He hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, body wracked with sobs. “This is my burden to bear. Alone.”

“Oh, my dearest Kelas,” Garak said, his voice losing the angry edge it had had moments prior. He stepped in behind the shorter man and wrapped his arms around him. “If you think I’m the kind of person who can do something simply out of the kindness of my heart, you haven’t been paying attention.” He rubbed his arms up and down Parmak’s forearms, trying to coax them away from where they pulled at his tunic, stretching even the stiff fabric. “I want you. I want your love. If you’re uncomfortable with being intimate in a sexual manner, that’s fine. I’ve gone eight or nine years without any sexual contact, another thirty won’t be too hard. As long as I have you, that is,” Garak said, burying his face in Parmak’s hair. “As long as I can hold you. As long as I can run my fingers through your hair and steal the occasional kiss.”

“It’s not right,” Parmak whined through tears. “I’m not right. I don’t want to drag you down with me.” He trembled. He wanted to shake his head, but Garak’s face was pressed tightly against him.

“You only lift me up,” Garak promised, kissing whatever scales his lips could press against. “You are the best among us. I would be so lucky to have you. I’m lucky just to have your friendship. That alone is more than I deserve.

“But, I promise you,” Garak breathed, pressing his hands over the other’s, easing his thumbs into the tops of clenched fists, “if you give me half a chance, I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.”

“But- I just- I never knew you were- Unless it’s my fault.”

“I don’t put those labels on myself. I never have, and I won’t start now.” Garak scented Parmak’s hair, being obvious about it so the other would take notice. “If I let you go, will you promise me that you won’t run? I want to talk about this.”

Parmak swallowed a few times, but eventually nodded, muttering a quiet, “I’ll stay.” He turned around to face Garak, wringing his hands. He swore he saw Garak’s heart break as the other took him in; his red eyes, panting, shaking, tears still dribbling from his ocular ridges.

“Oh, Kelas Parmak,” Garak said, slowly bringing his hands up to Parmak’s cheeks, “I feel so strongly for you. It hurts me that you would deny yourself something that you so clearly want, that I reciprocate, just because our people have been vitriolic in how they treat people with different inclinations.” Garak pressed their foreheads together. Parmak braced himself on Garak’s chest. “Let me love you. Let me teach you to love yourself, and you can teach me to forgive myself.” Parmak nods just a fraction. It’s only a slight increase in the pressure of his forehead against Garak’s. “We have much to talk about,” Garak admitted. “I’ll understand if you don’t want our relationship to be public. I respect that. I do want to forge a new Cardassia with you, standing side by side, but for now,” Garak trailed off, opening his eyes to find Parmak just staring at him. “For now,” he repeated, “I just want to kiss you. May I?”

“Yes,” Parmak managed after a minute. His hands shook almost violently as his fingers clenched in Garak’s tunic. He was terrified that he’d wake up any moment, that he’d find himself in his bed, twisted up in his sheets with his face pressed to the pillow. He was afraid that he’d find it was his own hair tickling his face instead of Garak’s, that this Garak was his most intimate dream and his most horrifying nightmare and the real Garak was being swayed to Madred’s side as he lay fantasizing about a love he could never have.

But the gentle press of lips to his made him sigh out a whine through his nose and relax into the other man. He pressed back so carefully, unable to shake the thought that the man he cared for the most might reel back and crack him across the face for surrendering to his desire.

Parmak knew, even if Garak did, he’d treasure the moment forever.

Just like he treasured the moment when Teror wrapped a lock of his hair around his finger and leaned in close.

Exactly how he’d treasured the way Reya held his head high and declared his love for Parmak before he was to be marched out before the firing squad.

Like the moment he realized just how deep and real Glinn Hadik’s feelings were for Nurse Torkal when he heard the older man cry out into the night before taking his own life.

Parmak whimpered when Garak pulled back, flinched when the hands fell away from his face. He cracked an eye open to look at the other, finding him smiling, a tender expression on his features. Parmak felt ashamed for thinking this adoring man would strike him. He offered his palm to Garak, shaking though it was. Garak’s smile broadened, lighting up the entire room in Parmak’s view, and he returned the gesture.

“This will take time,” Parmak managed. “I can’t just suddenly be a different person now that one person – even though that person is the one I care for the most – doesn’t hate me for my… taste.”

“I know,” Garak said. “We have plenty of time.”

The two just stood there for a moment, Parmak barefoot, Garak’s tunic crumpled from the force of Parmak’s grip.

“Now,” Garak started, “let’s have some coffee and stare at each other for a while over your dining table.”

Parmak couldn’t believe he managed a chuckle.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut and angst: masturbation and relationship negotiation.

“Oh,” Parmak breathed, fingers twitching on Garak’s neck ridge. “Oh, that feels,” Parmak trailed off, squirming against the other.

“Good?” Garak asked, pillowing Parmak’s head with his arm, curling his arm around it to play with his hair. He continued tracing the smaller man’s hip ridges, his fingers just under the band of his loose sleep pants. Parmak panted his assent even though he couldn’t help squirming away as Garak’s touch moved lower, tracing the ridge down into the dip, where it faded to soft, leathery scales. Parmak’s belly was a little bloated with age, but still smooth and tender, and sensitive to the touch. He was in danger of tearing his own sheets again when two of Garak’s fingers found his chuva. “Where do you want me to go from here?” Garak purred.

“I- I don’t-” Parmak stuttered out, thrashing his head from side to side. Garak flexed his arm to hold the other still.

“Lower? Higher? Back over your hip?” Garak asked, rubbing slow circles into the warming scales. “Tell me what you want.”

“I can’t, Elim! I can’t!” Parmak huffed, sagging back into the mattress. Garak sighed quietly, taking his hand out of Parmak’s pants to rest it on his belly. “I’m sorry,” the doctor whined, taking his hands from the sheets to drag them over his face, to hide his welling tears. “I really do want you,” he whispered.

“I trust that you do. You really are a lovely color right now,” Garak said back, almost as softly, gently pulling one of Parmak’s hands away from his face.

“But you’re still upset with me,” Parmak breathed, turning his head away. Oh, he hated the color of the wall not far from his bed.

“I most certainly am not,” Garak was adamant. “I just find myself a bit… frustrated, and not with you,” he promised. He wiggled a little against Parmak’s hip, pushing against it even though he was still sheathed. He pressed his lips to Parmak’s aural ridges when he rumbled, “I will admit that I sometimes find myself with the desire to just, ah, just touch myself, when we do this.” Parmak drew in a sharp breath, glancing over at Garak. “Especially when we wind up here after a particularly… rousing conversation. When you back me into a corner,” Garak growled.

“And you shut me up with a kiss?” Parmak asked, a wavering smile gracing his features.

“You’re irresistible then!” Garak defended, grinning.

Parmak bit his lip. “Maybe,” he started, “could I- No, never mind.” He turned away again and worried the corner of his mouth with his teeth.

“What is it, my dear?” Garak asked, rubbing his hand back and forth over Parmak’s belly.

“No. It was a stupid, filthy idea. Just- no.”

“We can get filthy here,” Garak whispered, a purr underlying his voice. “Tell me what you want, Kelas,” he hissed the name and Parmak quivered.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Parmak begged, squirming, “but I want to see you. See you- see you touch yourself.” Garak gasped, having to remove his hand from Parmak’s belly to press it hard against his slit to keep from everting. He let out a deep, long moan, keenly aware of how wet he was, able to feel the moisture even through his sleep pants. “I’m sorry,” Parmak whimpered.

“Don’t be,” Garak growled, rubbing himself, pressing his palm in hard enough to cause pain. “How do you want me?” His voice took on a desperate edge.

“Oh, Elim,” Parmak breathed, turning his whole body to face the taller man. He tentatively reached out to touch the impressions at Garak’s collar. “How-However you’re most comfortable.” His eyes slowly drifted down Garak’s chest, darted away briefly, then back to continue their path. Parmak made a needy little sound when Garak pushed his pants down to his knees, the moist spot sticking for a moment.

Garak’s hand wasn’t as steady as he would have liked it to have been when he ran two fingers up and down the length of his slit, trying to spread the scales with them. Garak moaned quietly into Parmak’s hair, the arm under the other’s neck tensing, those fingers squeezing his lover’s opposite neck ridge. Parmak’s moan is surprisingly loud when Garak everts, not expecting Garak to push two fingers into his slit underneath his glistening prick.

“Oh,” Parmak groaned, aching to reach out and touch, “it’s so big.”

“I’d hardly call a centimeter over the average ‘big,’” Garak tried to joke, but it came out on a shallow huff.

“Mine is,” Parmak hesitates, “smaller.”

“Oh, Kelas,” Garak said, pushing his fingers deeper, pumping them in and out, “I’m sure it’s beautiful.” His eyelids fluttered and he licked his lips, “I’m sure it’ll feel so good inside me.”

“Elim!” Parmak gasped.

“Would you rather I be inside you?” Garak asked, slowly drawing his fingers out, pushing his face harder into his partner’s hair. When Parmak moaned at the thought, when he closed his eyes, Garak wrapped his fingers around his own prick, palm sliding easily along the length. When he felt Parmak press his face into his throat, Garak asked, “Are you watching? Do you see what you do to me? How much I want you?”

Parmak opened his eyes, looking down, watching Garak fuck his fist. “Yes, yes,” Parmak repeated over and over, his lips never quite touching between the words.

“Where do you want me to, oh, show you the peak of my pleasure?”

Parmak pulled back, took in the lost look on Garak’s face and whispered, “my stomach, please.” He made a fearful, amazed sound at the feral noise that came from Garak. The former spy pushed Parmak to lay flat, getting to his knees beside the shorter man. The man nearly roared from somewhere in his throat as he splattered the doctor’s belly, stroking himself through it and grinding his teeth.

“Oh,” was all either of them could say, both breathless, both staring at Parmak’s soiled belly. “Thank you, my dear,” Garak whispered.

Parmak licked his lips before he responded, “That was… wonderful.” He shyly brought a hand up to his stomach, shivering as he dipped a finger in the warm mess. He looked up to find Garak watching him curiously. Garak raised a brow when Parmak’s shoulders hunched. He tilted his head in a questioning manner, something hot and devious in his gaze.

“We should get cleaned up,” Parmak said, wiping his finger off on his chest. Garak looked disappointed, but helped his partner from the bed anyway.

“Yes,” Garak hissed playfully, “a nice long hug in a hot shower sounds wonderful right now.”

Later that evening, when Garak resumed work on his letter and Parmak tidied up his place just for something to do, he stopped, a cleaning cloth in hand and said, “Could you maybe, sometime… force me?”

Garak looked up. “Excuse me?”

Cloth back to the counter, Parmak scrubbed. He ran his other hand through his hair. “I just- I won’t- I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do anything with penetration,” he whispered the last word, “if you don’t make me do it. At least to start with.”

Garak sat his PADD aside. He crossed his legs. “My dear, I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“But I do want to!” Parmak threw the cloth aside and put both hands in his hair. He turned around and leaned back against the counter, managing to get his hands from his hair only to fold them over his mouth, then further down to wring them over his chest. “I want it so bad it hurts, but I can’t!”

Garak watched Parmak observe his own hands for a few seconds before he stood and crossed the room to stand within arms’ reach of the man. He wrapped his arms around the other when Parmak fell into his embrace.

“Please just make me do it!” Parmak begged. “I’m giving you permission!”

“No,” Garak said firmly. Parmak sighed and gave Garak more of his weight. “Unless,” Garak started, and Parmak perked up, eyes wide, lips parted, “we establish a word you can say that will stop me.”

Parmak deflated again. “That won’t work. If I can stop it, I will.” Garak threaded his fingers in Parmak’s hair and raked his nails over the man’s scalp, scratching affectionately. “I need- oh goodness, I’m terrible- I need the responsibility of making that choice taken away from me.”

“I can’t take away your agency, Kelas,” Garak whispered, leaning down to press his forehead to Parmak’s. “We’ll just have to work on this. I already told you, we have plenty of time.”

The doctor made a quiet noise in his throat then sighed. He sniffed before asking, his voice barely more than a whine, “will you stay here tonight?”

“I’d love to,” Garak answered, dipping his chin to press their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since school is back in full swing, these updates will probably start having a day or two between them, as much as that pains me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some smut because my brain is fried already.

A few days later, Garak decided to try again.

“My dear,” Garak started, leaning back against the wall behind his bed, “will you come join me?”

Parmak looked up from the soup he was working on, spoon halfway to his mouth to test the flavor. “But it’s almost done,” he said.

“It’s soup. Just turn off the heat and it’ll be fine. I have tastier plans for us, anyway,” he cooed, taking a devious joy in the way Parmak shivered. “Come,” he said, curling a finger at the other.

As if pulled by a string, Parmak complied, turning off the stove seemed almost an afterthought at his lover’s magnetic tug.

“I’ve been thinking about your issue,” Garak said, guiding Parmak to sit between his spread legs with his back to Garak’s chest.

“Yeah?” Parmak asked, settling his hands over Garak’s on his stomach.

“Mm,” Garak hummed. “How would you feel about a little wordplay, my dear?” he cooed, lips brushing the tip of Parmak’s ear.

“Wordplay?” Parmak asked, closing his eyes. He tilted his head away to give Garak better access, something he’d been getting better at in the last few days – at least above the belt.

“Yes,” Garak said, slipping his tongue out to tease the ridge. “You said you’d always say ‘no’ if given the option, so why don’t we play with the meaning of the word?” Parmak tensed up, but quickly relaxed back against Garak. He nodded, hoping that was going where he thought it was. “How about we say, for the next oh, fifteen minutes, that ‘no’ means ‘that hurts’?”

“’That hurts’?” Parmak asked, squirming when Garak’s hands moved down to his hip ridges, still outside the pants. Garak gently rubbed his fingers back and forth, stimulating the sensitive scales on the underside of the hard ridge.

“Yes,” Garak said, nodding, pressing his lips to Parmak’s neck ridge. “Do you think you can manage not to say it unless something I do actually hurts you?”

“What- what about not taking away my agency?” Parmak asked breathlessly, spreading his legs when Garak’s fingers dipped lower, sliding down past the ridges, lingering on smooth scales dangerously close to his slit. The doctor’s lounge pants did nothing to dull the sensation and he couldn’t help his quaking.

“Ah, I thought of that, too. If you need to stop, for any reason, say ‘chrysanthemum.’”

“Creh- Keer-san-thee-mum?” Parmak tried, momentarily distracted from Garak’s wandering fingers. “Oh,” he breathed when Garak’s flat hand rubbed his slit in a downward motion.

“Strange word isn’t it? Quite lovely, I think. It’s a Terran flower. It gets easier to pronounce once you say it a few times. Rolls right off the tongue, really,” Garak purred, tightening one hand on Parmak’s hip ridges, bringing his other hand back up only to slide it down again. “But I’m hoping you won’t find yourself needing to.”

Parmak drew his lip into his mouth, biting it, fighting off a curse. He arched against the touch, bringing one hand up to Garak’s hair, cautiously stroking for a second before threading his fingers in it. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked, flushed, eyes closed.

“I’m going to finger you until you come all over yourself and me,” Garak growled, nipping at that sensitive third scale on Parmak’s neck. The shorter man’s answering moan made Garak grin around the throbbing scales in his mouth.

Garak slipped his hand into the loose pants, his middle finger sliding into the slight groove the part made, resting there in the moisture. He gently stroked, only moving that one finger and Parmak let his head rest on the other’s shoulder, chest heaving as he tried to draw breath.

“Does this hurt?” Garak asked, tapping very lightly.

“N-” Parmak started, catching himself, tightening his fingers in Garak’s hair. “It does not,” he managed.

“Oh,” Garak breathed, pushing against the hand in his hair. “Oh, my dearest. Open up for me. I want to give you your reward for remembering.”

Parmak squirmed for a moment, giving a fair bit of resistance before his prUt split open his purse, pushing against Garak’s palm. He whimpered, sucking on his cheek. Garak moved his hand forward, pulling Parmak’s pajama bottoms out with him so he could get a look at Parmak’s length.

“Don’t!” Parmak cried, the hand not tangled in his lover’s locks, flying down to cover himself, pushing Garak’s hand back down on him in the process. “Sorry! I just-”

“Shh,” Garak shushed. “It’s alright. Just let me,” Garak trailed off, his middle finger slipping into the other’s purse. The noise Parmak made was felt more than heard, and he thrust back against the finger, lower body arched off the bed with only Garak’s chest for his support. Parmak could feel Garak’s throat vibrating when he yanked on the other’s hair, unable to control his hand spasm at the feeling of being penetrated. The only sound Parmak was aware of was the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn’t even hear himself scream when he cried out in ecstasy, painting Garak’s wrist with his seed.

For over a minute, all Parmak could do was cling to Garak’s hair and the wrist of the hand still on his hip, and shake.

“From just one finger,” Garak marveled, placing a series of gentle kisses up his lover’s neck.

“It’s been a while,” Parmak admitted quietly.

“You were beautiful. I’m so proud of you for remembering. For not using the word.” Garak waited a moment, resting his hand under Parmak’s still everted prUt. “You did remember the word, didn’t you?” He looked down at the man in his arms. Parmak turned his head away and grinned obviously, deviously. “Kelas,” Garak drew out the name warily. The doctor turned back to face Garak, a devious twinkle in his eye.

“Kree-san-thee-mum,” he said against Garak’s lips.

“Mm, close enough,” Garak answered, smiling into their kiss. “You’re alright?” he asked when they parted.

“Yes,” Parmak said, sighing softly through his nose. “I’m a little embarrassed, but,” he took his fingers from the other’s hair and brought them down to the hand Garak still had in his pants, tugging on the wrist until he removed it, “I’ll live.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm supposed to be writing a poem about myself right now for one of my classes. I have no fucking idea what to say. I don't think I take myself seriously enough to write a serious poem about ... me. 
> 
> Julian, as graceful as the walrus,  
> that swims the silver shore  
> of a city in Ohio  
> ignored by the people he bores.  
> His only validation  
> comes from the internet.  
> Post another chapter  
> and trips on 4chan get?
> 
> You can clearly tell that my brain is busted already. So early into the semester.


	13. Chapter 13

“Do you ever think that Mondrig will ever come after you?” Parmak asked one night, after they’d calmed down from one of their political volleys. He was getting ready to leave Garak’s, his clinic needing opened early in the morning, which it was already coming close to.

“I have,” Garak said with a nod, standing from his workstation. “That’s why I’ve been working on something,” he said, heading over to his bedside stand to pick up a small device. “It’s an alarm. We’ve been discussing the idea that the Cadre may come around since I’ve become increasingly vocal in my support of Ghemor, especially since we sometimes meet in my memorial gardens. I must admit that I’m more worried about my statues and the couple of flowers I’ve managed to grow being damaged than myself. Old as I am, I can still defend myself.”

Parmak smiled, reached out and put his hand on Garak’s arm. Appreciative of the willing contact, Garak sat the device aside to return the gesture. “Is that why you haven’t been working on your letter recently?”

“I have been working on it,” Garak said, turning his nose up in mock offence. He looked at Parmak out of the corner of his eye and smiled slyly. “What do you think I’m doing with my other hand when your head is in my lap and I’m petting your hair?”

“Mmm,” Parmak hummed, stepping in closer to rest his head on Garak’s shoulder, eyelids drooping. “I don’t mean to rush you. What does the alarm sound like?”

“You’re not. I’m nearly finished. You’ll have to read it when I’m finished. Oh, and we’ll run a drill of the alarm during our next meeting.”

“Oh, Elim,” Parmak said, ringing his other hand up to offer his palm to Garak, “I couldn’t possibly read something so private. Especially if you’re telling him about anything we’ve done.”

Garak took the hand and huffed out a little laugh. “I would never give such intimate details. I promise you he won’t even be able to tell we’re together unless he’s become very proficient in reading subtext.”

“You don’t have to hold back the information that you are seeing someone. I think that he’d be happy for you, but,” he sighed, leaning heavier into Garak, “I also think that he might not be able to keep it to himself that we’re both men.”

“Of course he wouldn’t be able to,” Garak said with a soft snort. “Humans have no negative feelings toward homosexuality.”

“If only we could have that,” Parmak said and sighed again.

“We will one day,” Garak promised. “Shall I walk you home? You seem about to fall asleep.”

“Mmm, no,” Parmak said, prying himself away. “I’m really tempted to stay. I do like waking up to your arm thrown over me or your hair in my face. But I’ll never open the clinic on time if I spend another minute with you.” He leaned up and stole a kiss. “I love you, Elim.”

“I love you, too.”

A couple weeks later, the alarm and all the drills they’d run came in handy.

Parmak woke to the sound of the alarm and clambered out of bed, accidentally taking his sheets with him. He quickly tossed them back in place and grabbed his trousers from the previous day. They were barely fastened when he was grabbing his stiff, white coat he wore on shift at the clinic. He fastened that, slipped on his loafers and headed out the door, combing his hair back with his fingers on the way. Others met him along the way, nodding bluntly and walking briskly, falling into step behind Parmak until Ghemor came out and gave directions with his hands alone.

They half-surrounded the marauders in a semi-circle, coming up out of the shadows. They fell into the positions Ghemor motioned them into and just stood there, some with their hands in fists at their sides, others crossing their arms over their chests or stomachs. Garak and Parmak exchanged a quick nod then turned their attention back to the Others.

Long moments passed. The creaking of scales in clenched fists could be heard along with some loud breathing and the occasional shuffle of feet. Parmak had the urge to reach out and touch Garak’s hand briefly, but he resisted.

One of the marauders gave in to the growing tension and launched himself at one of the group. Parmak raised a hand toward the man sprawled out on the ground, wishing he’d brought his medical equipment. But the clinic wasn’t that far away. It appeared that several others had the same desire to help, but Ghemor called out for them to hold the line.

The whole event wasn’t longer than ten minutes, and the whole group heaved a collective sigh of relief when the Cadre retreated. They observed a moment of silence then, suddenly, there was movement. Organized movement.

Parmak checked on the man on the ground, helping him to his feet and looking at his injuries. Others started to clean up the damage to the memorials, moving away broken pieces, putting them back up however they could.

By the time they left that morning, everyone had a smile on their face, even if a reserved one.

Parmak was wary of leaving Garak that night, but he assured the other that he would be fine, and that he should take the dermal regenerator to the young man who’d been injured.

Later that morning, Parmak showed up at the shed anyway. He’d turned on the emergency contact terminal at the front of his clinic and put the communicator in his pocket, wanting to spend some time with the other.

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, tugging at one side of his hair. “If you want to be alone, I can leave,” he offered.

“You could leave,” Garak said, looking at Parmak’s form in the doorway from his space on the bed, PADD in both hands, “but you could also come over here and curl up with me.”

“Which would you prefer?” Parmak teased, slipping off his coat and dumping it over the chair at Garak’s workstation, revealing that he wore nothing underneath.

“Which do you think?” Garak asked, his eyes trailing over the bared torso.

Parmak climbed into the cot, fitting himself against Garak’s side. When Garak put the PADD aside, Parmak blinked. “You don’t have to stop, you know.”

“I know, but I was just editing. I already wrote what I wanted to for that entry. Right now I’d rather you hold me. If you’re feeling up to it, that is,” Garak said, running his fingers through the doctor’s mussed hair.

“Of course,” Parmak said, leaning up on his elbow and splaying his other arm so Garak could get comfortable against him. He sighed happily when Garak ran a hand up his bare side and brought his forehead to rest in the hollow of Parmak’s throat. He wrapped his arms around Garak, one awkwardly angled under the other’s pillow, but he was happy regardless of his mild discomfort. He pressed his face into Garak’s hair and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,” Garak mumbled into Parmak’s chula, “and not just for tonight. For everything. Your forgiveness, your love, your support…” he trailed off with a soft sigh.

“I could say the same of you. I’m in your bed, shirtless, with the door open and I’m not even scared. A little chilly, but I’m not as scared as I once was. I know that If someone came by, I’d probably have a conniption, but I’m sure I could fall asleep like this and sleep peacefully. There’s also the matter of all you’ve done for the Reunion Project. You’ve done so much more for me, the least I can do is give you a quiet, warm respite from the outside world for a few hours.”

“Mmm,” Garak hummed, nuzzling. “You say I’ve done more for you, but I think we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on that one. I haven’t felt this warm in many, many years, if ever.” With the draft blowing in, licking up Parmak’s back, he understood the meaning of the words and gave Garak a squeeze.

“Oh, Elim,” he said quietly, smiling as the other pulled the blanket up over them and snuggled into his embrace.

Garak wiggled his toes as they dangled over the edge of the bed, giving a happy little sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've finally decided how this is going to end, I can kind of ballpark how long it will be. I'm thinking 18-20 chapters at this point. 
> 
> Update on the poem situation: the one I ended up using (not the joke one I posted) actually went over really well with the class. I was surprised as shit. I'm not really much of a poetry writing guy, I'm more of a "hey, let's look at this poem and dissect all the symbology and poetic devices used and the time period that it was from to see how close we can get to what the author may or may not have been thinking/feeling/meant when they wrote it" kind of guy. 
> 
> Also, I was nice and made cookies for my club's booth for our school's new semester festival today and some jackass just scooped up a half dozen of them while I was taking a cigarette break (the club president was still at the table). I was so fucking pissed. I only made thirty-six cookies. I keep telling myself the fucker was broke and hungry so I don't get mad over a stranger's greed.


	14. Chapter 14

Parmak sighed heavily as he entered the shed, kicking off his shoes and peeling his socks off afterward. He set his coat aside and straightened out his tunic.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Garak asked, staring at Parmak. He put his needlework down and turned in his chair to face the doctor, watching him intently, eyes roaming his form. Parmak squirmed a little, trying to smooth down his frazzled hair.

“Nothing’s particularly wrong,” Parmak said, giving up on his hair and walking over to Garak. “In fact, everything is so wonderfully right.” He leaned down and kissed Garak’s cheek, smiling against the other’s lips when Garak turned to press their lips together. He stood up straight and turned to look out the little window next to the workbench. “No, in fact, I’m a little worried that Mondrig has something up his sleeve. He agreed to a voting competition, so I’ve no doubt that he still has a few thugs that will intimidate people in whatever ways they can.” He glanced at Garak and found him openly staring. Parmak felt his ridges flush and turned his gaze back toward the window.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Garak said, standing. Parmak fought the urge to look. “He may intimidate a few people, but those of us who wish to talk will find a way. Our side is larger, stronger, more diverse,” he explained, coming up behind the other, wrapping his arms around Parmak’s middle. “We’re a family and friends with inquisitive minds and a desire to move forward, they’re cranky, old men and women and young men who don’t know any better, who think force is the way to handle every issue. While force does have its uses, I happen to know that a good conversation can have many, many more.”

Parmak hummed thoughtfully, rubbing the side of his head against Garak’s when the taller man rested his chin on Parmak’s neck ridge. “One could say that we’re old men. Maybe going senile,” he teased.

“Didn’t you just tell me a few weeks ago that ‘we’re not that old’?” Garak teased back.

“Oh, no. I’m getting so terribly old.”

“We’re middle aged at worst,” Garak said, bringing his lips to just above Parmak’s kinat’hU, kissing the second scale lovingly.

“But my hair is graying,” Parmak playfully whined, tilting his head to the side.

“You have a couple slivers of silver, yes,” Garak playfully hissed. “Which I absolutely adore, by the way. Especially when it gets like this.” He brought a hand up from Parmak’s belly to card his fingers in the other’s hair, tilt his head back onto his shoulder so he could take a break from speaking to kiss and nip at his scales.

“Like what?” Parmak asked, suddenly breathless, bracing himself on the wall with one hand, holding tightly to the one of Garak’s on his stomach with the other.

“Mm, when it gets hard to tame, when it frames your face instead of staying back.” Harder nip to his most sensitive neck scale had Parmak squirming. Garak continued, “It gives you a certain appeal that I find hard to resist. Whenever I see you after you’ve been working all day, I want to ravish you.”

“Would you, please?” Parmak asked, his voice small.

Garak’s breath caught.

Parmak froze.

“I mean,” Parmak started, his voice shaking, “if you’re up for it- up to it. Since we’re only middle aged, and all.”

“Oh, my dear Kelas,” Garak whispered against the scales his lips were pressed to, “you must know how much your teasing makes me ache.”

“I’m not teasing. Well, not much. Elim, I want you… to touch me again. I long for it.” Garak growled quietly, stretching out his leg to kick the door shut. “Elim!” Parmak gasped, jerking against the teeth on his neck ridge. “Isn’t that going to upset you?”

“Not when my attention is fully trained on you. Turn around, my dear. Let me ravish you,” Garak growled.

Parmak whimpered when Garak’s teeth skimmed his scales again. “You’d have to release me first, you know.”

“Oh, but I do love you like this. Quivering in my grip, but knowing I’ve got your back. Desperate for my touch, yet scared of it. Such a beautiful drama plays itself out in your body,” Garak said, drawing his hand down Parmak’s belly. Parmak’s breath caught. “It’s going to come to a head soon, isn’t it? Maybe not tonight,” he said, unclasping the other’s pants with a single hand, “but soon. Would you grace me with the privilege of seeing you tonight?”

“It’s not visually appealing,” Parmak warned.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“I don’t think I can take-” Parmak’s words broke into a gasp when Garak’s hand slipped into his trousers, fingers teasing his moistening slit. “-you not liking that part of me.”

“Oh, my dear, there isn’t a part of you that I don’t love.”

“You mean that, don’t you?” Parmak asked, spreading his legs.

“I do,” Garak promised, rubbing his fingers in harder. “Now, I have a question for you.”

“What- What’s that?”

“If I were to say, use my mouth on you, would you want to keep your tunic on? You haven’t seemed inclined to taking your clothing off during any of our encounters thus far.” Parmak shivered at the idea, pushing himself against Garak’s hand. He blinked a few times, trying to think to answer the question through the dual stimulation of Garak’s fingers and his voice.

“Wait,” he said, and Garak’s fingers ceased their movements. “No, not that. Don’t stop that, oh, please. What I meant was,” he moaned quietly when Garak continued to stimulate the sensitive scales, “was that you haven’t seemed eager to get naked, either.”

“I’ve only wanted to make you comfortable. If you want me to take off my clothes and splay myself before you, I will. I’ll take you in my mouth and spread my legs and display everything for your viewing pleasure. I’ll even pleasure myself for you again, and show you what you do to me.”

“Elim,” Parmak cried out, unable to prevent everting.

“Yes, beautiful,” Garak said, drawing his fingers up over the organ. Parmak gave little aborted gasps as Garak repeated the action. “You have such a lovely texture. I can’t wait to feel it resting on my tongue. Will you turn around and take your slacks down for me?” Garak let him go when Parmak nodded.

Back against the wall, Parmak hesitated. Garak raised a brow and pulled off his own shirt, draping it over the workstation chair.

“Would you rather I be completely nude first?” Garak offered, already unfastening his pants. “Tell me what you want.”

“You don’t have to- to-” Parmak whimpered, fingers screeching as they curled against the wall behind him, watching Garak slip his trousers down his legs.

Pants around his ankles, Garak said, “My dear, unlike you, I’m not ashamed of what I like or what gives me pleasure.” He took a knee, then leaned down on both, his pants twisted around his ankles, and Parmak made a sound in his throat. “May I?” Garak asked, fingers hooking over the waist of Parmak’s trousers.

“I’m not ashamed of- Well, I suppose I am, but- I- I want this,” Parmak whimpered, holding his breath while Garak neatly folded down his trousers.

“Oh,” Garak breathed, taking in the sight of the small, wet prick. “My dear, how would you say that this isn’t visually pleasing? It’s absolutely wonderful. I just hope it tastes as delicious as it looks.” Garak licked his lips and seemed deep in thought for a moment. “Feel free to put your hands in my hair. Pull a little, if you like.”

Parmak meant to say something, he really did, but he forgot how to put the sounds in order to form coherent sentences when Garak’s tongue pressed against the underside of his prUt. Garak’s tongue was almost long enough to cover the length of him, warm and wet and wonderful, and Parmak’s fingers found the other’s hair. He gave a gentle tug, urging the other to get on with it.

Garak’s chuckle was quiet, but it vibrated against the sensitive organ sweetly when he took Parmak in his mouth. “Yes,” Parmak hissed, “oh, yes.” Lips pressed against Parmak’s slit, Garak’s tongue darted out from under the twitching prUt to push into Parmak’s purse and the doctor couldn’t help thrusting into the pleasure. Garak growled in response to Parmak’s curse and the hands in his hair slackened with his apology. He whined when Garak pulled away.

“Don’t apologize,” Garak growled, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked. “Look what you’ve reduced me to,” he said, leaning back so Parmak could see his everted prUt and how Garak stroked it firmly with one hand, two fingers of the other hand under it, sliding in and out of his purse. “I want you to use my mouth for your pleasure. Pull my hair, thrust as hard as you like.” Another quiet curse came from Parmak and Garak grinned for a moment before he took Parmak back into his mouth. Garak moaned around the thick, but short prick, groaning when Parmak’s hands found his hair again.

Garak’s eyelids drooped when Parmak started to thrust, his grip on Garak’s hair tightening. “It feels so good, oh,” Parmak breathed, tugging on Garak’s hair with one hand, scratching the man’s scalp with the other. It wasn’t long before Parmak was babbling, warning Garak of his impending orgasm. Garak took his hands from himself and took his over by the hips, holding him in place and tapping his tongue against the underside of Parmak’s prick rapidly.

Parmak wailed, pulling hard on Garak’s hair, doubling over the man as he came, prUt twitching against the roof of Garak’s mouth.

He panted, trying to catch his breath, still clinging to Garak’s hair, though his grip was a lot less firm. Garak’s hands left his hips and Parmak leaned back against the wall, surprised by the soft noises of pleasure coming from Garak, who had his nose buried between the doctor’s thigh and groin.

Who was also pleasuring himself again.

Parmak whined from his throat, watching Garak’s neck ridges move with his actions. Garak moaned when Parmak’s prick twitched and dribbled, spurred on by the sight of Garak on his knees, delirious with pleasure. When he had enough control over his body’s actions to retract his prUt, Parmak took a knee and took Garak’s face in his hands. Seeing those eyes dilated like that with his lips slightly parted, needy and unashamed made Parmak’s stomach do a strange flip and he pressed his lips to Garak’s rather forcefully. He drank in the other’s moan, nipping his lip and kissing him through his orgasm, paying no mind to the way Garak’s essence stained his tunic.

“Oh,” Garak breathed, blinking the stars from his eyes, “thank you, my dear.” Parmak was about to ask what for, but just shook his head instead. He kissed Garak again, threading his fingers in Garak’s hair, rubbing the pads of them lightly against his scalp in an apology for his rough pulling. “It does taste as good as it looks,” Garak muttered against Parmak’s lips. The doctor turned away when he felt himself coloring. “Mmm,” Garak hummed, getting to his feet, dragging Parmak up with him. “I’m ready to rinse off and sleep for a few days, how about you?”

“I’d love to doze off with you for a while,” Parmak said after he’d fixed his pants, “but I can only sleep until the morning when I have to open the clinic again. Unless I handed off the keys to my assistant, and even then I’d only be able to curl up for two of those days because I have another meeting to go to, to decide where the voting will take place. Oh,” he groaned, laying his head against Garak’s still bare shoulder. Garak kissed Parmak’s head.

“Shh,” Garak cooed. “Let’s just use the few hours we have and get some rest,” he suggested. When Parmak pulled away, Garak found and slipped on a pair of sleep pants. He cracked open the door and turned back to find Parmak already laying in his bed, shirtless, holding out his shirt for Garak to clean himself up with. “Your shirt, really?”

“Mmm, I’ll wash it later. For now, I just want to be close to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was working on this, my boyfriend asked me to do something for him. "Baby," I whined, "Garak just took his pants off." 
> 
> To that, he said, "That is hot, and I will deal with that later, but for now I need you to do this thing for me."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and fluffy describes this chapter AND me.

Voting over and letter sent, Garak handed off a copy of the letter to Parmak, who read it curled up with the other in their hidden grass patch. He laid his head in Garak’s lap while Garak did some needlework. It took him three days to finish, and he teared up several times throughout. Garak would simply run his fingers through the other’s hair and instruct him to keep reading. Garak couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath at the way Parmak would press himself against his side and make sad faces up at him from time to time.

Finished, Parmak made a cooing noise, and looked up at Garak, holding the PADD to his chest. Garak looked down at him and smiled, setting his work aside. Parmak reached up and threaded his fingers in the other’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Eww, they’re kisseen’!” came a child’s voice from atop one of the rubble walls.

“Shut up, you moron!” hissed a little girl. Parmak recognized the voice, slowly letting Garak go.

“Vera?” Parmak asked, sitting up.

“Look what you did! You got us caught!” Vera hissed at the boy she was with. Three little heads poked over the side of the rubble just to the left of what was left of the gnarled tree stump. “Hi, Mister Parmak,” Vera said, sounding chastised.

“What are the three of you doing up there?” Parmak asked, getting to his feet. “You know that’s dangerous, don’t you?” Garak got to his feet as well, pressing two fingers to his lips to stifle his laughter. “You could fall and get hurt,” Parmak went on.

“That’s what makes it more fun!” the first boy said, climbing up over the wall to dangle his legs over it. “We’ll be fine!”

“Famous last words,” Garak muttered under his breath not a second before the section of the wall the boy was sitting on gave and he tumbled the meter and a half to the ground.

Parmak rushed over to the boy, helping him sit up and checking him for injuries while Vera and the remaining boy climbed to the top of the rubble and used the tree to clamber down into the little space. “Way to go, dumbass,” Vera said, putting her hands on her hips, looking over Parmak’s shoulder.

“Vera, watch your language,” Garak said.

“Sorry, Mister Garak,” she answered, hunching her little shoulders.

“Well, come on, young man,” Parmak said, helping the boy to his feet. “We need to run you by the clinic and take a dermal regenerator to that elbow.”

“Just don’t kiss me,” the boy said, pouting.

“Eww, like anyone would kiss you!” Vera said, turning her nose up. Garak snorted, laughing even harder when Parmak turned an unamused look at him.

“Vera, could you be a dear and find Korik’s mother and tell her to come by the clinic?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod, running off out of the crack before either adult could say another word.

“Alright, let’s go take care of your elbow, Korik.” Parmak led the boy from the grassy area. “What did you learn from this experience?” he asked as they crossed the threshold.

Garak made to follow, but the remaining child tugged on his tunic.

“Hmm?” he asked, turning around. The boy averted his eyes and twiddled his fingers in front of him. Garak took a knee and laid his hand on the boy’s arm about the elbow. “What is it?”

“I’m glad you two are happy,” he said quietly. “Together, I mean. My mom and dad have done nothing but fight since the Fire.”

“It has been hard on us all,” Garak said, giving a rueful smile. “Be patient with them. They still love each other, and they still love you.” He waited a beat, “and yes, Doctor Parmak and I are very happy together.”

“Are you going to get married?” The boy asked, suddenly looking up. Garak let out a startled laugh and stood.

“Two boys can’t get married,” he said, motioning for the boy to follow him out of the area.

“Why not?” the boy asked, hot on his heels.

“Oh, the silly old views of some silly old people made it that way.”

“You’re not- Well, you’re not silly.” Garak chuckled at the boy’s words. “You should be able to get married if you love each other.”

“We should, shouldn’t we?” Garak asked. He waited until they had almost reached the clinic before he slowed and said, “Can you make sure Vera and Korik know not to tell anyone that they saw Parmak and I kissing? Some of those silly old people may make life harder for the good doctor Parmak should they find out.”

“Yeah,” the boy said with an enthusiastic nod, pushing open the door to the clinic.

Garak found Parmak dealing with the profuse apologies of Korik’s mother. He smiled and stayed out of the way. Once everyone had left, he wrapped his arms around Parmak, and the embrace was returned.

“Your PADD is in my pocket,” Parmak mumbled against Garak’s chest.

Garak made a noise of acknowledgement then said, “Dharr thinks we should get enjoined.” He chuckled, burying his nose in the other’s hair.

“Does he now?” Parmak asked, giving a slight, amused shake of his head.

“The future is looking bright, my love,” Garak said, swaying gently.

“I-“ Parmak started, pausing to tighten his grip on Garak and chew his lip for a moment. He wanted to say that he doubted that the children’s parents wouldn’t tell their children of the old view on sexuality when they came of age. He wanted to say he had his doubts about two men or women ever being able to be enjoined, or even not being persecuted on a social level. He knew he should be afraid of the children telling other people what they saw. Instead, he said the simplest, most honest thought that came to mind; “I hope so, because I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wasn't planning on updating this today, but I broke my sewing machine this morning, so my long weekend plans were shot. Though, I have been doing a lot of doodling and thought I might include this mildly NSFW pic. 
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s9.photobucket.com/user/Miskitsu/media/Mobile%20Uploads/image_zpscncibths.jpg.html)  
> 


	16. Chapter 16

In Garak’s shed, Parmak gave a soft sigh, turning from the little window. He watched Garak add a few stitches to an elaborate embroidery work that he hadn’t yet tried to decipher. Parmak would see it when it was finished, he was sure, but found himself enthralled by watching Garak’s thick fingers do such delicate work so quickly. When Garak put the project aside, Parmak sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair. When it wouldn’t stay back without product, he gave up and left it curling around his face.

At some point, Parmak had closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall opposite Garak’s perch on his bed where he liked to work. When he opened his eyes, he found Garak startlingly close and drew in a sharp breath. Garak pushed Parmak’s hair out of his face and offered a warm smile. The doctor found his ridges coloring.

“You’ve been sighing quite frequently since you’ve been here,” Garak said, cupping his lover’s cheek, “is something on your mind?”

“No,” Parmak answered, pressing his cheek into Garak’s palm and nuzzling it. “Today was just a slow day at the clinic. I should be relieved,” he admitted, “yet I’m not. This should mean that everyone is finally healing, but I know not to be that hopeful just yet. There are still a lot of injuries that require long term treatment. I feel,” he started, but stopped with yet another sigh through his nose. He closed his eyes for a long moment, just enjoying the affectionate, simple contact while he tried to gather his thoughts. “I feel as if it’s something else. Maybe the people are going back to licking their wounds in private, or… No, I don’t want to think about that,” Parmak muttered.

Parmak’s lips parted when he opened his eyes, drawing in a breath at being the center of his lover’s attention. He couldn’t help but compare the stare he was receiving now to the one he received all those years ago. Garak’s look was much more gentle now, genuinely interested instead of looking through him to some future goal. He had slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, smile lines and the first couple of creases that implied wrinkles would be coming soon between his ridges and his hairline. It made him look soft to Parmak, gave him an endearing quality that he couldn’t help but reach out and draw a finger over one of the laugh lines. “I love you,” he whispered, afraid he’d wear the words out, and with the words, Garak’s trust of them. But Garak’s muted smile only broadened.

“And I love you,” Garak said back, pushing the hand on Parmak’s cheek back into his hair. He offered his other hand for Parmak to press their palms together, and he did. “Which is why I would like you to trust me with what has you so worried. You know we are a prideful people, taking assistance only when we need it, and sometimes not even then. But you implied there was another reason that you may not have had so many patients as of late. Tell me?” Garak asked, working his fingers through a tangle in his lover’s wavy hair.

Parmak took a deep breath and took Garak’s hand in both of his. He worried the other’s fingers with his thumbs, not missing how Garak fought back a shiver at the sensation. “I can’t help but wonder if the children told others what they saw us doing and that may have had some effect on my clinic’s attendance. Is that foolish of me? To think that rumors spread by children may be the source of the lack of patients? I shouldn’t think that, should I? No, of course not, it’s just the sector healing.” Both are silent for the span of a few heartbeats. “Right?” Uncertainty wormed its way into his voice.

Before responding, Garak leaned forward and stole a kiss. “Well, a kiss is hardly sordid,” he reassured his lover, “but it is never foolish to be aware of a potential issue. However, I doubt that many would be concerned with what they perceive as two old men using each other to alleviate their lonliness.”

“Would they see it as something so harmless? I don’t think we’re old enough for that yet,” Parmak admitted, bumping his nose against Garak’s, seeking more casual affection. “We’re both still virile. Neither of us have been married, to my knowledge, so it is still a sordid affair.”

Parmak expected Garak to frown, to prattle on and on about personal choice and remind him of the things he’d spent so many nights arguing and rallying for, but instead the man grinned. “Virile, indeed,” he said and kissed Parmak’s nose. He trailed feather-light kisses along the doctor’s jaw, up his audial ridges and breathed against his ear; “There is nothing sordid about my feelings for you, or even my desire for your body. Nor yours for me.” He crowded Parmak back against the wall, bracketing him in with his arms just under the shorter man’s as the doctor lifted his to brace one on Garak’s chest and grip the hard scales at the back of the tailor’s neck with the hand of the other. “If anyone thinks this is sordid,” Garak started, leaning down to kiss the lowest scale exposed by the neck of Parmak’s tunic, “they don’t know the meaning of the word. There’s nothing dirty about wanting to make someone feel good.” Garak kissed his way up the scales, paying special attention to the third with his lips and tongue, and eventually made his way to Parmak’s lips.

When they broke for air, Parmak tilted his head back, opening his mouth wide in an attempt to draw breath. “How can I do that for you?” he asked between surprised inhalations, squirming as Garak’s fingers moved from the wall to prod his sides.

“You already do, by blessing me with the attention and love you give me,” Garak breathed against Parmak’s chin. “I haven’t felt this wanted, this needed, this loved in- well, ever.” He gave a playful nip and Parmak turned down to mock nipping back.

When Garak pulled back and grinned, Parmak studied his face for a long moment.

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“I do, and I want to return the favor. I want to make you feel as wonderful as I do whenever you grace me with a smile or a laugh or a kiss. When you engage me in arousing conversation,” Garak purred, drawing his hands down the front of Parmak’s thighs, earning a gasp and the spreading of legs, “I want to make you scream with pleasure, cry tears of joy, and wear you out by getting you to that peak over and over until you give me a drowsy little smile and fall asleep curled against me, not worrying about a thing but the potential fight over the blankets later.” Parmak whimpered when Garak breathed, “I want to rearrange the universe to write our names in the stars and give them to you, Kelas.

“Do you want to know how I know our love could never be considered sordid no matter what bedroom activities we engage in?” Garak asked, drawing his hands back up and bringing them together, brushing his lovers flushed chuva through his slacks. Parmak could only struggle to find his breath and nod enthusiastically. “Because it’s so honest, and more than a man like me deserves. You make me want democracy, in all it’s chaos, so that Cardassia’s people have a chance to express themselves. Oder be damned, we’ll carve the future ourselves.” He said between nips to Parmak’s jaw and throat, working his hands under his lover’s tunic to spread his fingers over the small love handles. “And not through violence, or force, or thinly veiled threat, but through reason and compromise and love.”

“Elim,” Parmak gasped, threading his fingers in Garak’s hair. “Oh, we can discuss the pros and cons of democracy later. Right now I want you.” He pulled Garak into a rough kiss, probing Garak’s mouth with his tongue. The taller man moaned into Parmak’s mouth, startled by his forwardness, the tugging on his hair, the leg thrown over his hip ridge. He hiked the other’s leg up higher, sliding his hand up Parmak’s thigh, but made no move to dominate the interaction. When Garak turned his head away for a breath, Parmak kissed along his lover’s aural ridges. “I want to, mnh, be intimate with you.”

“I’ve your leg over my hip, I think this is fairly intimate already. Not to mention the way you have my heart in your hands. Nothing could be more intimate than that. Contrary to popular belief, it’s really quite delicate. Do be gentle with me.”

“Oh, Elim,” Parmak breathed, gently scratching Garak’s scalp, “I want to make love with you. Please.”

Garak’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment and he gave an aborted half-shake of his head. “Are you certain?” he finally managed.

“Yes,” Parmak hissed. “Yes, please,” he begged. He took one hand from Garak’s hair to fuss with his trousers, trying desperately to get them open.

“Let me,” Garak said, easing Parmak’s leg down. He unfastened their slacks and thrust them down to their knees, only far enough for function. Garak’s fingers trembled as he caressed Parmak’s slit, easily gliding through the moisture. “Please bloom for me, my love,” Garak begged. He moaned when the little prick emerged with a flood of lubricant pooling in his palm. Garak rubbed his palm over it, pushing it back against Parmak’s belly and chuva. He growled when Parmak gave his hair a harsh tug.

“Please stop,” Parmak breathed, “I don’t want this to be over before it even starts.”

Garak gave a mute nod, taking his hand away, dipping his head to Parmak’s throat to kiss and suck while he moved the hand down his own front. He everted with a gasp, briefly pushing two slick fingers into his purse. “I never imagined,” his breath caught as he slipped his fingers out, “that our first time would be like this – up against the wall. I didn’t think I’d be so desperate for you that I could barely form words with three syllables.”

“Three of those is more than I have right now,” Parmak admitted with a chuckle, bumping Garak’s cheek with his own so he could nibble along the scales of Garak’s jaw.

“I promise I’ll cook you an elaborate meal, quote all the great poets of the quadrant and cover the bed in flower petals later,” Garak managed as he ground their erections together, the dual slickness rendering their shirts unwearable in public.

“No,” Parmak gasped, shaking his head. “No, this is perfect for us. I don’t need any of that. I just need you. Soon, prefer- pref-“ He took a deep breath. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Garak said.

Parmak bit his lip to stifle the shout that bubbled up in his throat when Garak straddled him, his prUt nudging into the taller man’s slit. Buried in moist heat, Parmak wasn’t sure how he managed the words; “Oh, Elim! Are you sure this is how you want it?” Garak groaned, tilting his head back when Parmak’s prick flexed inside him, pulling up against the sensitive erectile tissues.

“Yes,” Garak hissed, forcing his eyes open. He licked his lips and put his hand over Parmak’s as it held his hip in a bruising grip. “We were made for this,” he breathed against the doctor’s lips. Parmak whimpered.

“This isn’t going to last very long,” Parmak warned, his fingers screeching against the wall, hand tightening further between and around Garak’s hip ridges.

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Garak repeated, his purse clenching around the weeping prick. “You can finger me later.”

Parmak growled and gave a few shallow thrusts up into Garak as the other man braced himself on either side of his lover’s shoulders. When he flexed again, Garak slapped the wall, making Parmak jump and throb and let out a startled little cry.

“My apologies,” Garak panted, pressing his face into Parmak’s hair just above his ear. “It feels so wonderful. You fit me perfectly.”

When Garak started grinding back against the little, jerking thrusts Parmak stilled, flexed again and his mouth fell open. Garak’s only warning before his purse was flooded was a low, barely audible moan.

Both men were trembling as Parmak came down from his high, fingers twisted in Garak’s mussed tunic. Garak kissed the side of Parmak’s head, smiling. His prUt and purse twitched and throbbed, but he couldn’t have felt more satisfied.

“Oh, Elim,” Kelas breathed, reaching his hands up to Garak’s face to tenderly cup his jaw for a moment before pulling him down into a series of soft, languid kisses. As little as they wanted to part, parts of their bodies had started to protest engaging in that particular activity standing up.

“Think you’ll have enough energy left to finger me?” Garak teased, running his clean fingers through Parmak’s hair once, trailing his hand down his neck ridge after, finally coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Let me rest for a few minutes and sit me on a soft surface and I’m pretty sure I can do more than just that,” Parmak quipped in return.

No sooner had they fully separated than there came a loud, heavy-handed knock at the door. Garak drew in a deep, rumbling breath, turning a hateful glare at the thankfully closed door. Parmak wished he could have chuckled through his panic at Garak’s ineloquently muttered “fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super excited. My club at school is having a fanfiction night here in a few weeks and I was elected to head that week as well as co-head the Star Trek v. Star Wars week. 
> 
> My brain is still dead from schoolwork and I am not a poet if the fact that I started the most recent poem I turned in with "My butt hurts" is any indication.
> 
> And with that, I'm going to go and finally get a full eight hours of sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and smut: A friendly face fucks with Parmak's perception of privacy and Garak finally gets to come.

“Just a minute!” Garak called, hastily wiping a panicking Parmak down with a soft scrap of fabric that had been on his desk. “Kelas?” he asked after wiping himself down, tossing the soiled scrap under the desk to hide it. Parmak flinched away when Garak moved to help him straighten his pants. Garak frowned and turned away, fixing his own clothes to the best of his ability. He made an irritated noise at the stain on his shirt. “There’s a clean shirt that will fit you over on the bedside stand. I was hoping to give it to you when you had more time to look at it, but we don’t really have much of a choice at the moment.” When the knock came again, Garak raised his voice, “would you be patient?”

Parmak changed into the fine, soft tunic, busying himself with making coffee and food, hoping to look as though he was in the middle of it when the stranger knocked. His arms were numb and he had a bit of trouble breathing, but he went through the motions on autopilot. He reminded himself of the advice he’d found himself giving Garak on more than one occasion; breathe. Garak noticed Parmak’s trembling mid-stain removal, and came over, placing his hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Everything is going to be alright, my love. I promise.” Parmak nodded shallowly. “What should you be doing right now?” Garak asked, placing one hand on Parmak’s lower back, the other on his chest to help him straighten his back.

“Elim-”

“What should you be doing right now, Kelas?” Garak asked again, giving his shorter love a pointed look. “What do you have to tell me to do almost once a week, hmm?”

“To- to breathe,” Parmak said, nodding slowly a few times.

“Good, good. In through your nose, out through your mouth, just like you tell me. Just like Doctor Bashir and Counselor Dax used to tell me. Good. I’m going to get the door now, alright?” Parmak nodded in response. “You just work on the food and I’ll get our guest a drink when I let them in. I’ll try to make this as quick as possible, I promise,” Garak cooed, planting a soft kiss on Parmak’s cheek before turning away and taking a few steps toward the door.

“Yes?” Garak asked upon opening the door, his saccharine tone of voice barely hiding his murderous desire at being interrupted.

“Took you long enough,” groused a familiar female voice.

Garak’s false cheer and manners quickly fell away when he realized just who was at the door, and he let his shoulders slump. “What do you want, Haneri?” he asked.

“Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” she groused, shouldering the door open. Garak sighed under his breath and allowed her to enter, his hands twitching when she dumped the bolts of fabric she held under her arms at the end of his workstation. “What? Parmak not putting out?” she asked, having yet to notice the other in the little living space.

“Putting out? Really, you’re spending too much time at Federation posts,” Garak complained. “And what makes you think that-”

“Oh, please,” the stout woman interrupted, waving her hand in a stiff, jerky motion, “I have to do my job, and part of that job is running supplies between Federation outposts and, well, wherever they tell me to take shit.”

“Language,” Garak warned. Haneri rolled her eyes.

“I understand that you might be frustrated if your cute little doctor friend won’t let you get beyond kissing – Hell, I’d be frustrated in your situation, too – but that’s no reason to snap at people who are delivering the shit you bought and not even charging you for it.”

“Cute?” Parmak asked, startled. Startled herself, Haneri whipped around and stared.

“Oh, hello!” she said, leaning on Garak’s work desk on one hand, running the other through her military-standard hair.

“Oh, please,” Garak said with a half roll of his eyes, nudging her off of his desk with the back of his hand, “if the good doctor was interested in a woman thirty years his junior, I’m sure he’d have better taste than to choose someone who displays their lack of vocabulary by cursing unprovoked.”

“It does not show a lack of vocabulary,” Haneri groused, crossing her arms and leaning back against the edge of the desk, “you’re just a literary snob.”

“A literary snob,” Garak repeated, picking up the bolts of fabric. He stacked them neatly against the desk, one brow ridge raised.

“Mmhm,” she hummed.

“Cute?” Parmak asked again, a little louder than his previous squawk.

“I’d say so,” Haneri said with a shrug, “but I have a tendency to like older men.” There was a short moment of silence, in which Garak stood and considered his next words. When he opened his mouth to speak, Haneri interrupted, slapping her hand down on Garak’s desk, “oh yeah, I brought more than just your order,” she said, turning to Garak. He inclined his head as if to say ‘go on,’ his irritation still showing on his features. “So, obviously, if I know, then the whole sector knows that some little kids caught the two of you kissing.” Parmak could feel the color draining from his face. Garak glared for a moment, then walked over to Parmak to place a friendly hand on his upper back.

“And I suppose if I said we weren’t, you’d still take the word of a child over mine?” Garak asked, hoping to distract her from Parmak’s trembling.

Haneri clicked her tongue. “Well, regardless,” she said, splaying her hands, “everyone else believes it.”

“Everyone else?” Garak repeated.

“Mmhm,” she said again, with a nod that time. “So, I thought I’d fill you in on popular opinion on your, uh, relationship.”

“Why?” Garak asked.

“Because I like you,” Haneri said, pushing off the desk. “Plus, I don’t deliver medical supplies, so I never get a chance to ogle your cute boyfriend.”

Garak and Parmak shared a glance, then Parmak shrugged in a sharp, nervous motion. Garak took a deep breath and shook his head slightly, pouring the young courier a cup of coffee. Haneri took it with a bright smile, then turned her gaze toward Parmak, raising her brows playfully. The doctor coughed and looked away.

“Well?” Garak asked, inserting his presence between the two. Haneri gave a good natured snort.

“Well, clearly I don’t care,” she said, taking her coffee back over to her perch. “The kids think it’s cute. Poor little Dharr is so confused because his parents were pissed for a litany of reasons. I delivered some building materials to their place and Kaeme could not wait to launch into a tirade about how disgusting she thought it was, and how her family wouldn’t be coming back to the clinic.” Haneri took a moment to watch the way Parmak’s face fell and he turned the expression into Garak’s shoulder. “That is, until her husband left, after which point she said, and I quote, ‘I don’t give a fuck what they do. Garak may not have been a good man before the Fire, but he’s working hard now, and he’s clearly past his prime, so the back breaking labor isn’t expected of someone like him. And Parmak’s a good doctor. He doesn’t fucking charge to treat us like the assholes in Coranum. I’m still going there, and still taking Dharr to him. I’ll just take the money Rorik gives us to go to Coranum and get sweets after we see Parmak. Shht,’” Haneri mimicked the voice of Dharr’s mother, right down to her irritated hiss.

“What else have you heard?” Garak asked, rubbing Parmak’s back scales in a downward motion.

“A lot,” Haneri said, taking a sip of her coffee to let those two words sink in. “Don’t be surprised if one of you gets a visit from Borkel,” she said with a smirk into the rim of her cup.

“Vera’s father?” Garak asked, his lips twisted up in a confused smile. He could feel Parmak’s brow raise against his collar.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he’s gay,” she said with a snort.

“Borkel is married to Kanya, Vera’s mother,” Parmak said, looking up from where he’d buried his shame in Garak’s shirt.

“Yeah, and it’s a marriage of convenience, that one,” Haneri said, crossing her ankles. “I’m pretty sure Kanya has come on to me a time or two. Eh, she’s nice and all, but,” Haneri trailed off for a moment, grimacing, “well, let me just say that I’m surprised two people who look like that managed a kid as cute as Vera.” Garak snorted, laughing when Parmak prodded him in his ribs for his rudeness.

“Who else have you got?” Garak asked.

“Almost everyone I deliver to on a regular basis. There’s the Sokins, who are waiting to see what the rest of the sector does before they decide. They’re trying to keep Korik away from Dharr and Vera while they assess majority opinion. That’s not working very well. You both probably know what a little shit Korik is. Then there’s Tanor, who obviously thinks the both of you should hang. But fuck him, he’s with the Directorate, anyway.” She paused for another sip of her coffee and, finding it cool enough, she took a long pull from the mug. “I talked to Alon when I was picking up the newsletters to take them out, but I’m sure you’ve already heard from him on that matter,” Haneri said and waved a hand.

“Actually, no, I haven’t,” Parmak said, his voice small.

“Oh, shit,” Haneri said, setting her cup aside to lean forward. “Really? Well, you’ve got nothing to be worried about, sweetheart. You’ve got his full support. He’s happy for you. He went on at length about healing and growing and love and some other such bullshit and, like, how the two of you being so openly affectionate is good for the future of Cardassia. He even seemed kinda proud. Like, I don’t know,” she said and shrugged. “Personally, I think the only one you have to worry about is Tanor. He’s a hateful little ball of scales. No one really takes him seriously, though, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“Maybe not here, but amongst the Directorate?” Garak questioned. “What of what remains of the Cadre? They have no legal power, but they still roam the streets like vigilantes. Do you think they’d get it in their heads to make an example of one of us?”

“No way,” Haneri said, shaking her head. She picked up her cup again. “Everyone loves Parmak, regardless of sexual preference. If anyone lays a finger on Parmak, there’ll be Hell to pay, as the Humans say. I might worry about yourself if I were you, though. Not any physical danger, but I’d be prepared for an onslaught of questions from all the wives in town. I doubt they think you’re good enough for their favorite free care providing doctor and are going to grill you over every misstep or misspoken word or, ya know, that whole Obsidian Order thing,” she said, waving her hand once more. She drained her cup and handed it back to Garak. “Well, thanks for the coffee,” she cheered and stretched her arms above her head. Before she left, she turned a grin at Parmak. “If you ever get tired of his stuffy old ass, I can have one of the Federation guys get me a strap-on.”

“What’s a strap-on?” Parmak asked, looking up at Garak, who was covering his face with the hand not on Parmak’s back the second he’d rid it of the mug. Garak groaned.

“Haneri, don’t you have more orders to be delivering?” Garak snapped.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye!”

“What’s a strap-on?” Parmak asked again.

“Damnit, Haneri,” Garak muttered under his breath. “It’s a, ah, marital aid of Human origin,” Garak supplied.

“So it’s something that would make her more- or, something that would assist in her arousal? Is it a supplement that I’m unaware of?”

“It would certainly supplement her masculinity,” Garak muttered. “It’s a fake phallus,” he finally said.

Parmak’s face colored. “Oh.” Garak nodded. There was a silent moment in which Parmak curled his fingers in Garak’s shirt. “This whole situation,” he whispered, looking up from under his lashes.

“Very frustrating,” Garak agreed, sighing a stray lock of his hair out of his face. He took his lover by the elbows and leaned down, their lips not quite touching. He inclined his head in question, closing his eyes and moaning quietly from his throat when Parmak closed the distance. “I believe you said something about a rest and soft surface followed by a little more than just fingering me?” Garak growled against Parmak’s cheek.

“Are you sure you’re up for that right now, after all the information your courier just gave us?” Parmak asked, shrugging out of Garak’s grip to rest his hands on the taller man’s hips and step closer so their bellies brushed and their knees bumped. He watched a hungry look consume Garak’s face as the tailor raised his arms to let them rest over Parmak’s shoulders, clasping his hands behind the other’s neck.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Garak said, stepping back toward the bed, leading Parmak toward it. “I could really use a little bit of loving roughness at the moment,” Garak admitted, “a little bit of a distraction from the shock of the moment.”

“Loving roughness?” Parmak asked, digging his thumbs into the hollows of Garak’s hips, earning him a quiet gasp and Garak pushing back against him.

“If you please,” Garak asked, bearing his throat to Parmak. “Bite me. Not hard, but I want to feel your teeth. Pull my hair. Be careful not to pull any out – I can’t afford to lose any – but feel free to move my head wherever you want it, wrench it back to make room for your teeth in my neck if you like,” Garak said, a smile growing as he spoke at the way Parmak’s face colored again, the center of each scale getting dark the longer he went on. “Also, if it pleases you, I’d like to be spread open on your prUt again,” he whispered against Parmak’s ear.

Garak moaned, his eyes falling closed and his mouth open wide when Parmak fisted his hand in black locks and yanked his lover’s head back. “A-are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to hurt you,” Parmak asked, a slight hiss underlying every word, betraying his arousal at the thought.

“Please,” Garak breathed, pushing his lower half against the other. “I’m still wet from our earlier activities. Oh, if I hadn’t been so angry that we’d been interrupted, I would have gotten such a dirty thrill from having some of you in me while we had company.”

Parmak moaned, “enough,” and gave Garak’s hair another tug, making the man arch his neck and gasp for breath. Garak turned his hands palm up and tilted his head away from Parmak’s grip to feel the sting again. Parmak pulled again, leaning forward to give a little nip to the bony protrusion around Garak’s larynx. He wasn’t expecting the soft whine, nor the way Garak’s knees gave out, toppling them both down onto the bed.

Hands were everywhere, trying to get clothes off, nails scratching, fingers grabbing. “Wait, dear,” Garak said, and Parmak froze. “Oh, no, no, nothing’s wrong with me. I’m quite enjoying myself. Just,” and he looked a bit embarrassed, “could you take that shirt off and fold it? I made it so you’d have something nice to wear to your meetings, and I wouldn’t want it to get damaged in our, ah, amorous adventures.”

Parmak nodded and sat back to carefully pull off the shirt. When he got his first real look at the garment, his breath caught. “Oh, Elim,” he breathed, “this is gorgeous.”

“Yes, it’s lovely, but the view I have is better, I promise you.”

Parmak smiled down at Garak and gave a small shake of his head, hastily folding the navy and silver garment as carefully as he could in his desire to put his hands on his lover again. He sat it aside and brushed his fingers over the fabric once before returning his attention to Garak. Parmak threaded his fingers in black locks, running the digits through the inky mass all the way down to its wavy ends. He repeated the action a few times with one hand, dragging the other down his neck ridges, letting his nails scrape slowly over every scale.

“How did I get so lucky?” Parmak asked.

“You think you’re the lucky one, do you?” Garak asked, pushing his head into the petting. He cried out when Parmak curled his hand into a fist and pulled. “Oh, love,” Garak rasped, throat bobbing against the assault of his lover’s lips and teeth. Garak’s body arched up into his smaller lover’s touch as his hand continued its adventure down his body, scrape of nails becoming the slide of soft scales as his fingers sought out Garak’s purse. At the first touch, he everted without a fight, in no mood to fool around for once, and two of Parmak’s fingers slipped in, rewarded with a gush of warm wetness spilling out over his hand and Garak’s thighs. “Yes,” Garak hissed when the hand in his hair pulled his head further to the side, an intelligible garble of hissed consonants working past his lips when Parmak’s teeth latched on to his neck ridge where it met Garak’s shoulder. Parmak flicked his tongue over the scales between his teeth and Garak keened, pushing back against the fingers in his purse, squirming. “Give me your prUt,” he half hissed, half begged, “I want to- I want to reach my peak with our bodies joined. Please.”

Parmak bit down harder for a moment, growling in his throat at the way Garak moaned and jerked under him. He soothed the bite with his tongue when he released the captive scales. “You’re sure you want it now? You don’t want to be opened more? I may be short and small, but I’m still fairly thick at the base,” Parmak offered, spreading his fingers to feel Garak’s insides clamp down on him.

“Oh, Kelas, my love,” Garak groaned, “you’ll come to find that I enjoy a bit of roughness on occasion, especially when I need to get out of my own head.” Garak lifted his hands to take Parmak’s face in his gentle grip, running his thumbs over the lower edges of Parmak’s ocular ridges. “I trust you to give me what I need, if you feel comfortable doing so.”

Parmak turned his face into one of Garak’s palms to place a gentle kiss there and muttered into the soft scales, “Thank you, Elim. I’ll do my best to give you everything you need as long as you promise you’ll make me stop if I get too rough.”

“Of course,” Garak answered, licking his lips and smiling. “Though, I don’t think you could be too rough with me.”

“I hope that’s not a challenge,” Parmak said with a small grin.

“Certainly not, and you’ve been accommodating thus far, but,” and he paused, “I could use a bit more,” and he wriggled his hips, “here.” Parmak moaned, sliding his fingers out. He chewed the inside of his cheek at the impatient sounds Garak made, his hands falling away from Parmak’s face to the pillow at either side of his ears, one displaced slightly by Parmak’s grip on his hair.

Parmak took Garak’s lips as he positioned himself over the other, straddling him and tilting himself so he could push his prUt into the dripping purse under Garak’s throbbing length. Garak groaned and nipped at Parmak’s lips, whimpering when Parmak returned the gesture, biting and tugging on Garak’s bottom lip, holding his head in place with the fist in his hair.

Parmak rode Garak hard, to the tailor’s delighted surprise, pushing deep, the tip of his prick nudging the back of his purse just hard enough. When he flexed his length, Garak cried out his wonder at how the small prick tugged at his erectile tissues deliciously. Garak clenched his hands into fists, gasping out encouragements. His purse clenched around the throbbing prick, his own jumping and dribbling.

“Almost there, yes, yes,” Garak managed between gasps. “Just a little more, please,” he breathed, lips not closing between words. “Bite me again, my love,” Garak asked, his throat bobbing when he swallowed. “Fuck, Kelas,” he cried when his lover’s teeth sank into his throat, holding him still, assisted by a tightening of the hand in his hair. Garak seized up, wheezing out a moan of “oh, oh,” with his orgasm, fingers twitching, eyelids fluttering, and Parmak kept on riding him through it all, flexing up against the overstimulated tissues until he found his own release inside Garak for the second time that evening.

Garak trembled for a few minutes afterward, Parmak shaking just as hard, holding himself up over his thoroughly wrecked partner. “I love you,” Parmak whispered, kissing at the spot he bit. He pulled back to look at it, wincing as he realized he may have to take a dermal regenerator to it. Garak relaxed his neck when Parmak removed his hand from his hair, laying back against the pillow, snatching up Parmak’s hand in both of his own to rub the tension out of the fingers that had been clenched for so long.

“Oh, and I love you, my dear,” he said, giving a lazy smile. “Thank you.”

Parmak eased himself out and Garak gave a soft sigh of loss, the sound becoming one of contentment when his lover didn’t get up, instead pressing his forehead to Garak’s. They stayed that way for several long moments, just making wordless, happy sounds at each another.

“My love,” Garak started, wrinkling his nose, “correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you cooking something before we started this adventure?”

“Oh dear,” Parmak squeaked.

Garak turned on his side to watch a nude Parmak fuss with whatever it was he had been making on the little stove. He chuckled, warm and satisfied and a little sore, pushing away the thoughts of what the community was saying and doing in regard to their relationship for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, weekend, I hardly knew ye. 
> 
> I've been thinking about tagging the types of sex in this and... should I tag it vaginal sex? I mean, it kind of is, just not in the conventional way... Leave me your thoughts about what I should tag the types of sex.
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to use Haneri, feel free. Just tag her so I can come read your story.


	18. Chapter 18

Garak happily went with Parmak to open his clinic the next morning, keeping what he’d hoped was a comforting hand on the scales of Parmak’s lower back whenever he could, stepping away whenever someone entered. He only had to pry himself away twice. Once for a construction worker who’d taken a bump to the head, and once for Korik.

The young boy hobbled in, his father close behind, an irritated look on his face. It morphed into one of obvious discomfort when he made eye contact with Parmak. He quickly looked away, in the opposite direction of Garak, the man’s poise and pleasant smile throwing him off even more.

“Well? Tell him what happened,” Korik’s father prompted, stealing a glance at Parmak as the doctor helped the boy up onto one of the beds by picking up under the arms. Korik gave an angry pout in his father’s direction, the expression complete with narrowed eyes.

“Vera broke my foot,” Korik complained, turning a wide-eyed expression up at Parmak. He puffed out his cheek in a comedic pout for a second before trying his best to level Parmak with his stare. Garak barely resisted chuckling, instead he moved to tidy a small, freestanding cabinet that was full of Parmak’s scrubs. Directly behind Korik’s father, he turned an ear toward them. “Then she tried to kiss it better, but obviously that doesn’t work or else you two would be happy right now,” Korik said, eyes still trained on Parmak.

“Ah,” the doctor said, uncertain of just how to proceed. When the sound faded to a chuckle and Parmak made the split second decision to ignore the comment and simply treat the child, sudden movement from the boy’s father startled the doctor.

“Korik!” the boy’s father gasped, drawing his hand back. Korik shielded his face and Parmak flinched, winced.

Instead of the slap they’d expected, all they heard was, “ah, the insights of children,” in Garak’s charming lilt. “They are something to consider, aren’t they?” he asked, releasing the man’s wrist and turning back to his cabinet organization project.

“Ah, Mister Sokin, I’m going to have to ask you to, in the future, refrain from striking your child on the grounds of perceived offense,” Parmak said, holding out his tricorder between the man and his son. With the elder Sokin looking thoroughly chastised, trying and failing to hide it by turning his gaze up at the ceiling, Parmak turned his attention to the boy. “Now, while you are correct that kisses can’t heal injuries, whatever is it that makes you think I’m not happy?” he asked as he determined just what bone was broken.

“You look so sad all the time,” Korik said, moving his toes – or trying to – when Parmak prompted it.

“I wasn’t aware that I looked sad,” Parmak said, taking Korik’s foot in hand, pushing the bone back into place. To the boy’s credit, Korik did little more than wince.

“Are you sad?” Korik asked once the bone was repaired. He looked at his foot, flexing his toes. His father winced and Garak tilted his head to hear the response better, hanging up a protective overcoat and smoothing the lapels. Parmak chuckled at Garak’s behavior.

“Not anymore,” Parmak said eventually, reaching out to ruffle Korik’s hair.

Sokin ushered Korik down from the biobed, giving Parmak a quick nod and scuttling out from under the beaming grin Garak turned in their direction.

“Bye Mister Parmak! Mister Garak!” Korik called out as his father practically drug him out the door.

When both were gone, Parmak turned a pleading look to Garak, and the taller man’s grin faded to a soft smile. He approached slowly, giving Parmak ample time to escape the embrace he offered, but the doctor made no move to evade, only stepped into it, making a quiet, pained sound when Garak threaded his fingers in his hair.

That night was one of Ghemor’s meetings, and both returned to Parmak’s home exhausted, feeling like beasts at a zoo from how people were looking at them all throughout the event. Even the smiling was hard to bear, the expressions particularly rough on Garak, who lingered afterward, hoping that Parmak would ask him to stay. When he didn’t, Garak respected the space he needed, nodding solemnly in farewell, not having the strength nor the desire to give his lover the same plastic smile that nearly everyone had forced on for their benefit.

Over the following week, Garak brought his sewing work to the clinic, asking repeatedly if Parmak was comfortable with him invading his workspace with his own work. The shorter man assured him, with soft touches to his hands and chaste kisses on the cheek, that yes, it was quite alright, though he kept his distance when his assistant was around. He liked having his partner there, especially when Tanor was the one to show up with an injury, hissing slurs at the doctor as he took a dermal regenerator to the gash that ran from his wrist to his elbow.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” the three heard from the doorway. Parmak only glanced up briefly, but Garak and Tanor got a good look at one of the other men from the Cadre, one of the men who laid pipes by day alongside Tanor. “They’re old. Uh, no offense. Do you really want them reproducing? I sure as hell don’t. They’ll die before their kids reach emergence. That’s no life for a kid. We’ve got enough orphans. Let ‘em be whatever they are. They ain’t hurtin’ nobody. In fact, looks to me like one of ‘em’s doing the exact opposite of hurting.

“And look at you; spittin’ hate but still too cheap to go to Coranum.” The man hissed out his displeasure.

“It’s just not right,” Tanor hissed back.

“Yeah, and neither are you. None of us are after the shit we went through. It’s not like you have to live with the guy, so can’t you just shut the fuck up?”

Tanor sat in silence until he was healed, at which point he moved his bulk from the boibed and shouldered his way past his coworker, who rolled his eyes. The man handed off a small pouch to Parmak.

“I’ll say it since he can’t. Thanks.” There was a brief pause and the man tried to smooth down his hair that had seen better days. “I can’t say I exactly approve, but you’re a good doctor, and that’s good enough for me. I don’t know what you see in him, though,” he said, motioning with his head to Garak.

All patients and guests gone, Parmak started to shiver. Garak was immediately at his side, catching the doctor when his knees gave out.

“Sorry, sorry,” Parmak said, shaking his head and clutching Garak’s sleeve. “I’m alright,” he promised.

“I won’t let him or anyone else hurt you,” Garak gave a promise of his own.

“I know,” Parmak said, voice certain despite the rest of his body quivering. “Can you turn on the emergency contact signal and lock the door?” he asked once his legs were cooperating again. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Of course,” Garak said, slowly backing away incase Parmak crumpled again. When the tailor was sure he wouldn’t, he pulled the door firmly closed and set the locks in place.

After packing up his own work, Garak found Parmak in his kitchen, nursing a cup of tea, another sitting on the counter, steaming. Garak picked it up, giving a muted smile, and breathed deeply of the scent. They shared their tea and the treat that was in the bag Parmak had been presented, chocolate covered espresso beans, by the sink in contemplative silence.

“Elim,” Parmak finally broke the spell, “can we make love?” he asked, turning an imploring stare up at the taller man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should have taken me about two hours to write ended up taking almost five because of the loud assed college brats next door (says the college brat). These people need to hear my tips for a happy life.
> 
> 1\. Always say "please" and "thank you" to the people who handle your food.  
> 2\. Do everything in moderation; drinking is fine, just don't make yourself stupid or sick.  
> 3\. There's no reason to yell. So don't.


	19. Chapter 19

“There is nothing I would like more in this moment,” Garak said, setting his mug aside. His hand is warm when it cradles Parmak’s face and his shorter lover can’t help but press his cheek into the tender touch.

Parmak meant to say something, but the, ‘you mean that, don’t you?’ died on his tongue, only a nervous chuckle escaping. He turned toward Garak, his own mug forgotten on the counter on top of a melting chocolate and sliver of bean, welcoming the other into his personal space. He tensed up for only a fraction of a second, turning pliable faster than the sweets on the counter under the heat and pressure of a ceramic mug when his lover laid hands on him. All he found himself capable of doing was clinging to Garak’s dress coat when the man pushed him back against the counter – not aggressively, but not without want – and started mouthing along the edges of Parmak’s neck ridges carefully.

“Oh,” is all he can say, hurriedly working his fingers under Garak’s coat, pushing up the other’s shirt to feel the soft scales of his belly. His fingers wandered up over Garak’s chest and around to his sides, loving the way his lover sighed against him when Parmak brushed a tickling touch over his ribs. “We’re not going to do this standing up again, are we?” he asked on a breath, nudging his lover’s face away so he could return the affectionate brush of lips against ridges.

“Ah, my love,” Garak gasped, having to brace himself on the edge of the counter, “only if you keep that up. You are inspiring quite a- a need in me, but I would much prefer to have you in a bed, to make proper love to you.” Parmak gives a soft whine against the scales between his lips when Garak’s free hand finds where his hip ridges meet the scales that trail down his back, under his clothes, his fingers dipping into the doctor’s pants. “We should move to your bed,” Garak said softly, breath displacing strands of curly hair, “before I lose what little sense I have left.”

They lose clothes along the way, Parmak’s socks the last thing shed before they climb into the mound of a blanket, a large, fluffy quilt that Garak made for him several weeks ago. Parmak makes a breathy sound at Garak’s mouth on his throat, sucking at the slight bump there, his leg drawing up to brush his taller lover’s thigh. They wind their arms around each other, bellies brushing, Parmak’s toeclaws scratching at Garak’s shins as he pulled him up to nip at the shorter man’s chula, to slowly drag his tongue over the coloring dip.

“Sh-” but the question gives way to a pleasured hiss when Garak manages a hand between them, fingers rubbing the swelling slit, pushing just a bit too hard and it’s a pressure that Parmak can’t help but thrust into. “Should I?” he managed, gasping for breath over Garak’s head, one arm wrapped around it, the other awkwardly half between them, cupping one of Garak’s pecs.

“Please,” Garak whispered, tilting his head up to mouth the words against Parmak’s chin, “oh, please. I think I’ll go mad if you don’t. I’ve wanted to make proper love to you since,” and Garak stops mid-sentence, making a breathy sound of wonder at the way Parmak pushes out against his palm, wet and firm and throbbing sweetly, “well, for quite some time,” Garak finally managed.

Parmak pawed at Garak’s shoulder as he said, “I’ve only done it like this once before,” seizing up when Garak’s arm tightens around him.

“You’ve only had someone inside you once?” Garak asked, shaking, unable to stop himself from giving a loving nip to the scales on Parmak’s chin. He could feel the doctor starting to withdraw mentally, so Garak drew his fingers up the other’s length, rubbing the pad of one over the tip until Parmak bucked his hips, squirming closer, pressing their bodies together and rutting against him.

“It’s not that,” Parmak said, shaking his head, pushing closer, digging his knees into Garak’s thighs. “I’ve been with a, uh, few men,” he answered, turning his eyes up in hopes that Garak was too far gone to question him further about his sexual history, “I’ve just- just only made love once. The Cardassian way,” and he could remember Teror taking him apart on his prUt. Tenderly, gently, not with the needy rutting their encounters became once Parmak had become used to the idea of something more than fingers inside him.

It had been a holiday, and all the others were out at a festival on the quad – eating and likely getting drunk for the first time in their lives – but Teror had stayed behind. They’d shared a glass of fine kanar and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over themselves, stripping off only what they needed to in order to be intimate. They lay together, teeth clenched around each other’s neck ridges as Teror worked them both up by flexing his prick, occasionally breaking his mouth’s hold on Parmak to whisper sweet, kind, loving words that truly meant absolutely nothing.

“Only once,” Garak gasped. “Oh, my dear, sweet thing.” He nuzzled Parmak’s quivering throat, opening his mouth and laying his teeth around the protrusion, feeling his lover swallow, feeling it vibrate with the little sounds the doctor made. He pressed his tongue against the smooth scales for a moment before pulling back. “We have a lot of time to make up for, then.”

“Ah?” Parmak asked, turning his head down to look at his lover as the arm under him, around him, pulled him tighter against Garak’s body. “You’re not…” and his scales rippled as he tried to shrug his shoulders.

“Not what?” Garak asked, letting his fingers wander down Parmak’s rear, gently stroking the crease, his other hand coming up to Parmak’s hip ridges to hold him close so he could feel Garak’s wet length against his own. “Disappointed that you’re not pure? Concerned that you don’t have more experience? No, no, my beautiful love,” Garak promised, craning his neck to take Parmak’s lips for a moment, “oh no. I just can’t help but think on all the loving joining of bodies you missed out on because of me. I have so much time to make up for, so much pleasure and love I have to give you.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this out of guilt?” Parmak asked, looking down at Garak who gasped, tightening his embrace.

“No, no, Kelas, my love, I want you. Because I find you attractive, because I feel so strongly for you. I-” and Garak laughed when he noticed Parmak’s inability to hide his grin. “Oh, you clever little thing,” Garak rumbled against Parmak’s jaw. “Oh, let me love you. Let me in, please,” he growled, nudging his length against the base of Parmak’s.

“Yes, Elim, yes, please! Open me, take me. No fingers, just-” his words cut off in a long, loud moan as Garak started working himself in, crushing the shorter man against him, his face buried in the smooth throat. As far in as Garak could get without hurting either of them, Parmak let out a quavering sound of pleasure, his purse involuntarily squeezing Garak.

They lay that way for some time, just getting adjusted to the intimacy of laying on their sides; wrapped as tightly around each other as they could and still breathe, Parmak’s purse open wide on a little more than half of Garak’s prUt, his own pressed between their bodies, slickening their bellies. Then Garak flexed his length.

Parmak’s entire body rose with the motion, his insides clenching hard, nearly screaming with his pleasure. He clawed at whatever he could on his lover, trying to pull him closer, tensing his muscles and clamping down so Garak would flex again. “Ah,” he cried when the other did, his body rising again. “Elim! Ah, yes, my love,” he gasped against Garak’s forehead, sticking his tongue out to brush the rim of the other’s chufa, “please,” he breathed against the indentation.

Parmak’s cries filled the bedroom as Garak flexed his length again and again, kissing the smooth throat, holding the shaking body tight while the doctor squirmed just enough that his prick slid between their stomachs. Parmak’s eyelids fluttered as his purse did, fingers squeezing on Garak’s bicep and nails digging into the thick scales at the back of his lover’s neck.

“So beautiful,” Garak whispered, tongue darting out for a taste. “My sweet, sweet thing. Oh you feel so good, you make me feel so loved, so wanted. So pure,” his voice grew strained. “I don’t know how you do this, my love, oh.”

Garak’s teeth were a gentle pressure on his neck and Parmak’s orgasm took him by surprise, his mouth open in a wordless cry. Garak groaned, pushing just a little deeper, biting just a little harder, flexing again against the jumping, tensing, squeezing tissues and his own peak wasn’t far behind. When it hit, he let go of Parmak’s neck so he wouldn’t clamp down too hard, pressing his cheek against a panting, whimpering Parmak’s, barely keeping his eyes open enough to witness the look of bliss on his lover’s face.

They didn’t speak for some time after, just trading soft kisses, pressing lips to every ridge and dip they could crane their necks to reach and laughing breathlessly.

Parmak was the one who broke the silence with, “This is worth everything.” He finally relaxed his powerful grip, just cradling Garak to the best of his ability, shivering when Garak’s own grip slackened, his embrace and his expression taking on a reverent quality.

“You deserved better, my brilliant, beautiful beloved,” Garak said even though he was smiling. He let his head rest at Parmak’s collar, chuckling softly, little puffs of breath in the other’s chula. “But I’m delighted that I can make you happy, and shall endeavor to do so for the rest of our days.” Garak gave a soft sigh and closed his eyes, not wanting to remove himself from his lover just yet.

“The rest of our days,” Parmak repeated, eyes tearing, lips stretched in a smile. He buried his face in Garak’s hair. “I hope they’re many.”

“Mmm,” Garak cooed in agreement, “and filled with interesting challenges and discoveries.”

“But without pain,” Parmak added, unable to stop the happy noises that bubbled up in his throat when Garak snuggled closer, touched by the idea that Garak actually preferred to be held rather than do the holding. Parmak found that that suited him just fine.

“Without pain, but with plenty of pleasure.” Parmak scoffed fondly when he felt Garak’s grin.

“And a community that at least accepts us for who we are?” he ventured cautiously.

“A community that accepts our sexual nature, you mean to say. I understand why people are uncomfortable around me, and I- I understand. I accept the responsibility for what I’ve done. Oh, but that’s a conversation for another time. People do like you, you know,” Garak said, fighting off a yawn.

“People like you, too,” Parmak said, letting a disappointed whine escape when Garak softened enough to slip from him.

“Enough, yes. I’m certainly not lonely anymore,” and that was the end of the conversation.

The sheets would need changed and they’d feel disgusting in the morning, but Parmak couldn’t help but feel perfectly at peace with everything, curled up under the blanket Garak pulled over them. He drifted off to the sounds of Garak’s low, rumbling cooing, a soft smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to update this sooner, but I've been terribly sick all weekend. It also appears I've miscalculated, as there will be at least two more chapters.


	20. Chapter 20

Their shower the following morning is more intense than Parmak expected.

He knew that Garak loved the spray of hot water, loved to press up against his lover and clean him with his own hands – and adored having the favor returned – but Parmak wasn’t quite expecting the taller man’s fingers to start exploring, probing, when he soaped up the doctor’s backside. He certainly wasn’t expecting Garak to take a knee in the shower, spread his cheeks and flick his tongue over the hole.

“Elim!” he gasped, raising his voice over the beat of the shower. “That’s filthy,” he rasped, reaching back to fist one hand in Garak’s wet locks and shove his ass back against the other’s face anyway. Garak growled and buried himself deeper, thrusting his tongue inside. “Why does that feel so good?” Parmak asked, pressing his forehead to the slick, smooth tile, taking to his toes to push back harder. He whined when Garak pulled away.

“Seldom touched nerves being stimulated,” Garak supplied, his voice rough, “you should know that, my dear.”

“I know, I know, I just can’t think when you do things to me!” Parmak whined, pulling on Garak’s hair, trying to get his face back in place. Garak groaned between the mounds, spreading the cheeks further with his thumbs. He ate Parmak until his knees started to ache, even with the still warm water pouring over him.

When he stood, Parmak whined, but his frustration didn’t last long as the strong body pressed against him from behind. “Have you ever done it like this?” Garak asked against Parmak’s neck ridge, licking away drops of water between words. Parmak gasped an affirmative and braced his hands wall, pushing back against the prUt sliding between his cheeks. Garak growled, “Who engaged in such naughty pleasure with you, my love?”

Parmak seized up as he was taking to his toes to push back against Garak. “I- I had a Bajoran lover when- when I was on-”

“Oh, good,” Garak breathed a sigh of relief against the back of Parmak’s ear. Parmak turned slightly to look at the other. “I’d hoped it had been with someone of a different species,” Garak explained, wrapping his arms around his shorter lover, nudging the tip of his cock against the tightly clenched hole.

“Why?” Parmak asked, breathing out, forcing himself not to tense or breathe in as he was breached.

“I’d hoped,” Garak grunted, holding himself still so the other could adjust, “that you’d been with someone who had the intent of pleasuring you, not someone who wanted to use you for their own perverse pleasure and gave you nothing in return. This isn’t considered so awful amongst the Bajorans.” When Parmak was distracted, Garak slipped in another few centimeters. “In fact, this is exactly how Bajoran men show their love for each other, isn’t it? Strange that something so forbidden for us is a declaration of love for another. Oh, you’re so tight. Relax a little, my love.” Parmak drew in a breath to retort, but couldn’t, instead he groaned when Garak pushed all the way in. “There it is.”

After a moment, Parmak could finally breathe, could finally speak, tilting his head away from the spray, “What’s this to you?” he teased, “love or perverse pleasure?” He squirmed, taking to his toes to push back against his lover.

“Why can’t it be both?” Garak asked, pulling back a bit and pushing back against his whimpering lover, the other’s claws screeching against the smooth wall. After a few minutes, Garak and Parmak managed a slow, steady, painless rhythm, the shorter man making soft sounds every time he felt his lover flush against him.

“I usually prefer this face to face,” Parmak gasped, tilting his head back, “be- because it’s easier to get the pressure where I want it.”

“I think I can remedy that,” Garak purred, rubbing his hands over Parmak’s weeping, but still closed slit. “Open up and I’ll give you everything you need.” Parmak everted, immediately filled and surrounded by warm, wet friction. His knees nearly gave out, trembling with the effort to stay upright. He wailed and slapped his hand on the wall when Garak bit his neck ridge. Garak growled against the scales in his mouth, sucking up the water droplets, thrusting harder. Shoving his fingers deeper into Parmak’s purse, Garak drew his tongue up the line of scales to Parmak’s ear. “I’m close, my love, you’re so tight.”

Parmak only had one word, and shook his head as he demanded, “Harder.”

“So full of me,” Garak growled, managing a third finger in his smaller lover’s purse. “Do you want to be completely full of me?” he asked.

“You’re already in both holes, what more could you-” he whined when the hand left his prick. He opened his mouth to continue his question, but immediately sucked the preejaculate slick fingers between his lips when they were presented to him. Parmak found his peak, laving Garak’s fingers with his tongue and whimpering pathetically. Garak wasn’t far behind, slipping out carefully and rubbing against the engorged slit and the underside of his lover’s still weeping prUt until he found his own release, his emissions joining Parmak’s in being washed down the drain.

“Oh, my dear,” Garak breathed, kissing the other’s cheek.

“That was amazing,” Parmak breathed. “Mm, I think I want to go back to bed,” he cooed, letting Garak move him to actually wash him, shivering and chuckling as the other ran soapy hands all over him.

“But you have to open your clinic,” Grak reasoned, still sucking droplets of water from his lover’s scales.

“Oh, Elim,” Parmak groaned, “the emergency contact is on. I’m also going to be sore very soon. My calves already hurt and my rear is sure to follow. We shouldn’t do this kind of thing standing up anymore,” Parmak complained halfheartedly. Garak clicked his tongue in response.

“Why don’t you take a moment and enjoy a nice, hot cup of tea and I’ll open the clinic for you and get everything in order, hmm?” he offered, turning off the water.

“Oh, alright,” Parmak said, faking reluctance. He was, however, actually reluctant to let go of his lover after they’d dried and oiled their rougher scales.

Clean, dry, brushed, dressed and fed, Parmak made his way to his clinic with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. He handed it off to Garak, who took it with a smile, the Starfleet Trill assistant Garak had let in smiling at them both.

“Where’s my cup?” he teased.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Parmak sputtered. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I was only kidding,” the young man said with a shake of his head, returning to his inventory.

Around midday, Garak left to go collect some supplies he needed, and Parmak dismissed his assistant for lunch. Not five minutes after the young man had left, a familiar pudgy, blocky, splotchy face appeared in the doorway.

“Good afternoon, Borkel,” Parmak greeted, watching as the man looked out the door behind him. The doctor raised a row ridge as the man scratched at the deep neck of his tunic, digging his nails into the soft scales there until they colored. “What brings you in? An irritation of some sort?”

“Ah, yeah,” the man said, slipping out of the view of the doorway, should anyone walk by, “I’ve got a sore irritation alright.”

Parmak raised a brow ridge, but plastered on a friendly smile and took out his tricorder. “Alright, just hop up here and show me the issue-”

Parmak jumped back when Borkel seized him by the arms, twisting himself free.

“If you would be so kind as to-”

“Kelas, please! I’ve been living like this for so long! It’s been so hard to find… comfort,” he paused to scratch his collar again, “since the Fire. There aren’t any… things in place for this. Not anymore.”

Parmak didn’t hear the click of the door to his living quarters as he pushed Borkel back to arm’s length.

“What you do in your spare time is none of my business, but I am in a committed relationship and,” he stressed, “this is a clinic.”

“Committed relationship?” Borkel spat. He pushed forward, crowding into Parmak’s personal space. Focused on Borkel, Parmak missed his assistant slipping in through the clinic entrance. The doctor hunched his shoulders but didn’t back down. “With Garak? Please. Like you’re more than a passing fancy to that- that-”

“That what?” Parmak hissed back, feeling as though his neck ridges were flaring out. “If you have a medical issue, I will see to it that you are treated, but if you continue to behave inappropriately and insult the man I care for most, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Leave?” Borkel gasped, splaying his hands. “You can’t honestly think you could find happiness with him.”

Parmak scoffed. “And you think I could find it with you? Sneaking around on your wife, hurting your poor, sweet child’s feelings? I’m either treating you, or you’re leaving. Which is it?”

“I’ll take over, Doctor,” the assistant offered, startling Parmak out of his anger and into the side of a biobed, bumping his elbow on a panel. When he hissed in pain, Garak stepped up behind him and wrapped a protective arm around him.

“I would like to know what you were going to call me,” Garak said, giving Borkel a thin smile.

“Nothing. Nothing, I wasn’t-”

“Mister Borkel, you have a mild case of scale rot. We have an ointment that will clear this little spot up,” the assistant said, ducking into an alcove to prepare a tube.

Garak continued to smile and Parmak reviewed the tricorder data as Borkel waited awkwardly, scratching his collar again. He wouldn’t make eye contact with any of them, taking the tube when the assistant handed it to him and hurrying from the clinic. Parmak’s assistant sighed, putting his hands on his hips.

“So, this is what happens when you repress who you are for so long,” the young man said with a shake of his head.

“What, scale rot?” Parmak asked. Garak snorted and the Trill smiled. “Oh, you meant his aggressive behavior.” Parmak stiffened when Garak pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the doctor. “Love, we’re in public. Sort of.”

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just going back to inventory,” the assistant called, heading to the alcove where medications were stored. “I think it’s cute, though, in case you were wondering.”

“My life has become very strange,” Parmak said, tilting his head up to look up at Garak.

“It’s about to get even stranger,” Garak said, stealing a kiss. “I received an interesting offer,” he started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I updated anything, but I've been sick for over a week now and even homework has been terrible chore. Hope you enjoyed! There's one chapter left to go in this adventure!

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go starting something new when that's the last thing I should be doing right now.


End file.
